Reflection
by Ditsyjo
Summary: A mysterious visitor sets in motion a chain of events that will bring Neal to the edge... and bring to light a part of his past he never knew. As before I am never nice to characters. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Neal will be hurt. there are some pretty dark references in this one.
1. Chapter 1

Leaning back in his chair, he flashed the waitress a brilliant smile, before taking a sip of the drink she just delivered. It really was a beautiful evening, cold early morning rain had scrubbed the heavy New York air, but the clouds cleared away by just after noon leaving a brisk sunny afternoon. Twilight fell around him as he braved the chill to enjoy the patio outside his favorite bistro. Relaxed in his seat he watched the people hurry by on the sidewalk. Everyone scurrying on their way to wherever they were late to be. Neal smiled softly. The gentle smile he reserved for himself … and those few people he allowed a glimpse of himself.

He still basked in the thrill of a well-executed plan. It didn't matter which side of the law you were on, it was still a high to pull off something impossible. This last case had been a real challenge, ending up with Neal doing a high wire act seventy-four stories above the Manhattan pavement while an angry suspect took pot shots at him. Fortunately the man was a terrible shot. That thought made him grin in unsuppressed amusement.

The whole situation was crazy and the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed the memory made him briefly consider the possibility that Moz was right and he was certifiably insane. He didn't enjoy it in the moment, he reassured himself. The memory of the nine millimeter bullet whistling passed him just inches away while he balanced precariously, a single sway away from an agonizing crushing death in the alley below, made him shiver a bit. He really did not enjoy that in the moment. No definitely not.

It was actually the rush of relief he felt when Jones shoved the bad guy to the roof and cuffed him while Neal finished bridging the gap between buildings to Peter's waiting scowl that made it a good day. The stumble that slammed his right palm painfully into the wall as he dismounted to the balcony hadn't exactly been fun… but the sprained wrist had almost been worth it, since it sent him home early and got him out of the mountains of paperwork waiting to be filled out following the arrest. Peter's lecture about stupid stunts had barely phased him. After all it wasn't like he had much of a choice… his cover blown, the crazed and corrupt broker chasing him with a gun… the downward stairway blocked by movers with an enormous mahogany desk… so he went up… except there had been nowhere on the roof to hide from the angry man waving his gun around insanely and firing randomly. Neal took the only exit available in that wild moment, and it worked out in the end. Though pointing that fact out to Peter mid-lecture was probably not the best idea, he conceded.

He grinned and sipped his drink, savoring the steaming coffee, the chill of the evening and beauty of the sunset around him… it was the simple joy of being alive, he decided, at the end of a day that could have ended very differently, that made it a good memory.

The feeling came to him abruptly, like a cold breeze on his spine. He could feel the eyes on him suddenly. Not a casual glance but a steady, burning stare that never left his person. The joy that filled him moments before faded to ashes… leaving the bitter taste of nerves in his mouth. Looking around fugitively he saw no one… suddenly the night felt to cold, the growing shadows like enemies waiting to attack at any moment. He shivered under the burning observation. Somewhere out there, some one good enough to avoid his detection was watching him. He swallowed heavily, gulping his warm drink. He gripped the cup tighter to still his suddenly trembling hands. As darkness continued to fall, the moment felt heavy with foreboding… something was coming… something dreadful. Neal glanced once more out into the busy New York night and drew his coat tighter around him.

Then with no more warning than preceded it, the feeling was gone… leaving the young man too stare out at the city alone. He shook himself with a small forced laugh. He was getting as paranoid as Mozzie he decided. Just because someone **_might_** be watching him did not mean anything. People watched him all the time… even stared at him, especially women, he thought with a smile. Still he waved down his waitress and asked for a table inside. He couldn't quite shake the chill in his bones.

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Climbing the stairs to June's front door Neal glanced over his shoulder… again. Still no one there. So why couldn't he shake the feeling that someone was following him. He shook his head suppressing a shiver and telling himself it was just the cold March breeze that chilled him. If there was someone out there they were good. Really good. His hands trembled just a bit as he unlocked the door… it really was cold out here. He stepped inside just a little too quickly to be graceful and flipped on the foyer lights, pushing back the darkness as quickly as he could. Turning back to the door he locked it…and drew the dead bolt.

He took a deep breath and subtly pulled back the curtain half an inch and peeked out into the night. He watched a slender figure separated from the shadows and stride boldly up the sidewalk. Her hips swung smoothly in rhythm with her gait. Neal frowned slightly… the woman was well built, confident and obviously skilled but he had never seen he before in his life. Why was a strange woman following him?

He waited until she hailed a cab and slid smoothly inside before his hand released the curtain. As the cloth fell he thought he caught a glimpse of another figure moving out of the shadows… by the time he raised the fabric again the street was empty…

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He wasn't sure what woke him… but Neal jerked awake from a deep dreamless sleep. He glanced around his dark apartment. Everything was silent and still, the clock on his bedside table read 2:24 am. His lips pulled down in a frown.

The sound was miniscule… a tiny scratch against the outside of his door. His fight or flight instincts leapt into over drive as he rolled silently out of bed and grasped the first thing that might be used as a weapon to defend himself. Moving on bare catlike feet he crept to the door and wrenched it open.

The unfamiliar woman looked up… straightened gracefully and retrieving her lock picks from his door without a word, despite the burden in her arms. Neal stood frozen, staring at her as she smiled… the look was too comfortable on a stranger's face. Her long auburn hair draped seductively over her cheek partially obscuring her nearly turquoise eyes. Plump scarlet lips turned up in amusement as she took in his figure from bare feet to disheveled hair, coming to rest finally on his weapon… a chuckle bubbled over those full red lips.

"Honestly Michael Scott" her voice carried a warm British accent, vibrating with barely contained seductive laughter "do you intend on bludgeoning me with **_that_**?" her eyes flicked to the object in his hand. Neal adjusted his grip before glancing at what he held. He sighed ruefully at the metal art tube… the thing was far too thin and light to do much damage. Forcing a confident look to cover his doubts, he brandished the tube as threateningly as he could.

"Who are you? Why are you breaking into my apartment at 2:30 in the morning?"

"Oh come now, Michael, darling… surely you haven't forgotten the lovely week we spent in Barcelona…"her smooth cheeks flushed with just a hint of color but her chin lifted almost invitingly… "Or the amazing three days in Mannheim? Never mind the three months in London when we met." She thrust out her luscious lower lip in an alluring pout.

"I'm sorry…" Neal looked her up and down searching his memory for any recollection of this beautiful woman "I honestly have no idea who you are. Or who Michael is either for that matter."

"I understand that you need to keep your identity under wraps darling but I'm afraid the matter is rather urgent." The blanket wrapped bundle in her arms shifted slightly as the bag thrown over her shoulder slipped. "Will and I were here on holiday but of course, you know how it happens…duty calls and all that." she stepped past him into the room, moving to lay her burden on his couch, revealing a small boy about two years old, with dark hair and chubby cheeks. The young woman rose elegantly to her feet and looked at Neal. Her eyes darted from the young man to the boy almost nervously "oh Michael, I forgot you didn't know… I always intended to tell you about Will but…our life is so often complicated." She shifted her weight anxiously "but I really must ask you to keep him for a few days. It is of the utmost importance…"

"Miss," Neal desperately tried to find a way out of this impossibly strange situation "I already told you, you have the wrong man. I. Do. Not. Know. You."

"Of course you don't" she winked broadly and turned to the door. She hesitated "don't lose his bear, darling… it is dreadfully important. Will is impossibly attached to the silly thing" And with that she was gone. For a long moment Neal was frozen with shock.

In desperation he suddenly lunged after the woman. Leaping down the stairs two and three at a time he hit the walkway only a few seconds behind her. She strode rapidly away up the side walk. Neal hurried after her. Before he caught her, a dark green sedan bounced up onto the curb in front to the slim figure and a mountain of a man with a near canon sized gun, barreled out of the passenger door and grasped her arm, yanking her toward the vehicle. As he jerked her roughly her slim hand slid to her waist, to the small hand gun holstered there. The huge man suddenly gripped her wrist with bone crushing pressure. The woman didn't cry out as the weapon skittered out of her grasp.

Neal rushed forward to help, but the woman caught his eye and shook her head, mouthing frantically "Will…" then with the slam of a heavy door and a squeal of tires, the car and Neal's mysterious visitor were gone. Leaving behind…

The young man swore softly and rushed back up the stairs to the little boy.

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He jolted awake as the phone on his bedside table rang. A glance at the glowing screen and Peter cursed quietly before he answered.

"You are aware it is almost three am… this better be important." He muttered

"Is a woman being kidnapped outside my place important enough?" the voice on the line sounded marginally shaky.

"Are you sure she was being kidnapped?" he was wide awake now.

"The guy had a gun… a 1911 desert eagle to be exact, and he grabbed her and forced her into a dark green Lexus. Yeah I'm pretty sure." Yep definitely wide awake. Peter was up and pulling on jeans in an instant.

"I'm on my way, Neal… don't do anything. Do not go after them!"

"Wasn't planning on it." Peter did not miss the pause "Besides they are long gone."

"Stay where you are."

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere" Neal drew a shaky breath "Peter… there is something else you should know…"


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you absolutely certain he's not yours?" Mozzie eyed the tiny boy as he dashed excitedly from object to object, exploring his new environment… the first rays of dawn filtered through the French doors falling across the three men watching the child. The kidnapping had been officially reported to both the Bureau and the NYPD. Peter and Mozzie sat at Neal's table watching the young man as he paced nearly as franticly as the toddler.

"He's not mine, Moz!" Neal's eyes darted between his friends pleading with them to believe him.

"Because he's definitely got enough energy to be… and he does bear a rather striking resemblance to you."

"I don't care! I had never seen his mother before in my life. She was a perfect stranger to me."

"CPS will want to run a DNA test." Peter added quietly

"Let them! He's not mine!" his consultant nearly shouted. The little boy paused to look at him nervously. Neal abruptly dropped his voice "I didn't recognize his mother…at all.

"But you said she seemed to know you." Peter said thoughtfully

"She did, but she called me Michael Scott." Neal sank wearily into a seat across from them. "I've never used Michael Scott as an alias…" he sighed

"Maybe it was a one night thing?" Peter tried. Neal shook his head adamantly and Mozzie snorted derisive.

"I know I flirt, Peter… shamelessly sometimes… its fun and it's harmless, but I don't do one night stands…. Ever. To many people get hurt that way. I can count on my fingers the women I have slept with…and you have met half of them. I swear I have never met this woman in my life. Besides he's two … you know exactly where I was when he was conceived, Peter… women were not readily available…

"That's true."

"And apparently this was an ongoing thing between Will's mom and Michael … from what she implied."

"Ok then…that leaves only one viable possibility even though it sounds crazy. There is someone out there that looks enough like you, that his lover couldn't tell the difference."

"That's just … disturbing, thinking there is a stranger walking around with my face."

"Well unless you have a twin…"

"I think I would know about a twin." Something unreadable glinted in his eye as he sank into a chair, fingers nervously reaching for his silk handkerchief and folding it elaborately.

"But would we?" Peter regarded the agitated young man

"Maybe not." Neal conceded "but if I had a twin, you think I wouldn't be on the phone with him right now?"

"Granted" Peter looked at him thoughtfully "did his mother say anything else?" he nodded to the little boy currently trying to climb onto Neal's kitchen counter. "Anything that might help identify her or tell us why she left him with you?"

Neal scrambled to grab the adventurous child just before he grabbed a chef's knife from his precarious perch half way onto the counter.

"No she didn't…"He sat the squirming boy on the floor and returned to his seat. "She said something about three months in London, a week in Barcelona and three days in Mannheim… definitely flirting… She said she meant to tell this Michael about William, but apparently she never had, she said the situation was urgent… which obviously…" he shrugged his voice trailing off in frustrated desperation.

"And that's everything"

"That's everything…" Neal sighed deeply "well, she did tell me not to lose his teddy bear… pretty firmly, actually." Three sets of eyes turned to focus on the ragged well-loved bear clutched in the toddler's hand as he leapt suddenly from the couch to the armchair, giggling wildly with delight.

"You think there is something in the bear?" Mozzie asked quietly

"No… I mean she was just warning me he loves the thing…" Neal watched the little boy for a moment, "But she was quite adamant…"

"Couldn't hurt to take a look" the small man shrugged nonchalantly but his eyes lit up with burning curiosity.

"Couldn't hurt to look." Neal and Peter agreed. Three men fell silent as they realized what that involved.

"So…" Mozzie ventured uncertainly after an uncomfortably long moment "who's going to take the bear from him?" the three men looked at each other, then back at the small child currently jumping on Neal's bed…

"Do you still have Mozart…? I might have an idea."

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"No gib bear owies!" Neal held the little boy in his lap, as the child clung frantically to Mozart and eyed the operation in progress fearfully his little thumb wedged firmly in his mouth. Mozzie bent over the stuffed animal, magnification googles adorned his face, giving him a striking resemblance to a bug as he carefully picked the stitches out of the toy's foot.

"Bear will be good as new when I'm done I assure you, miniature Neal." The boy looked at him oddly, tears still streaked his little face. It had taken all three men bribing and cajoling to persuade him to let them borrow the toy but in the end after an explosive bout of crying he had conceded to give them the bear. An occasional hiccup jarred his little body and the way he snuggled into the young man's body made Neal wonder how often his mother left him with strangers and why?

"I told you he's not mine, Moz"

"That you know of…" the small man tapped his head knowingly "that you know of."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he adjusted the child in his lap.

"Big brother did extract a sample of your DNA when you were confined by their injustice system, did they not?" across the room Peter snorted and Neal shook his head affectionately.

"I don't think William is my clone, Moz …is there something in there?" he nodded to the bear.

"Are you sure about that my friend? The resemblance is disturbing…" a moment passed while he tugged silently at something… "Ah ha! There it is!" he held up a memory card with a triumphant grin. The small man lay the device aside and began carefully stitching the stuffed animal's foot back together.

"You aren't going to check it out?" Peter's quizzical look was met by stares of disbelief.

"Of course I am" Mozzie replied without looking up "as soon as I take care of a more pressing matter." he continued stitching steadily until the foot was closed. With an awkward grin he pushed his googles up and passed the toy back to its rightful owner. The small thumb was ejected immediately as the boy reached happily for his cuddly friend. His bright smile fell a moment later…

"Owies!" he pouted looking gravely at the bear's foot. "You gave him owies… he needs a banbaid!"

"My stitching is perfect!" the bald man protested "you can't even see where I did it.

"Needs Banbaid… biiiigg owies!" tears threatened.

Neal sighed and unfolded his handkerchief with a shake of his head, and shooting his friend a mildly frustrated look, carefully wrapped the toy's foot. "There you go, all better."

"But you can't even see it!" Mozzie threw his hands in the air.

"Tank oo" The tiny boy beamed joyfully and jumped lightly from Neal's lap.

"You're welcome."

"Now can we see what's on the memory card?" Peter asked

The bald man slid the card into the laptop on the table… after a moment he frowned.

"The card's heavily encrypted…" He scowled

"Can you crack it?"

"If I can't I have a … friend…or possibly more… who can" he looked up at the two anxious men "it may take a day or two."

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"Open up" the young woman waved a cotton swab at him "this will only take a moment"

"No problem Miranda," Neal obligingly opened his mouth allowing the Social worker to take a DNA sample "but he's not mine." He continued when she finished, looking over at the child, he sighed softly… he understood her doubts. Even in sleep he wore Neal's smile, his dark curls falling across his forehead as he shifted, and Neal knew those long lashes on his cheeks covered eyes the exact color of his own. It was disturbing. Especially when he remembered the boy's mother looking up at him earnestly… certain he was the man she sought. He covered a shiver with his brightest grin.

"Of course not sir" Miranda Wallace from Child Services clearly didn't believe him "his mother just left him with a random stranger who happened to look just like the boy."

"I'm pretty sure it was a case of mistaken identity." Not pretty sure he thought absolutely sure…

"Mistaken identity?" her eyebrow arched grey eyes radiating disbelief.

"She called me Michael"

"And that's not your name?"

"Nope… I'm Neal." He smiled brighter, purposely ignoring her cold look. "Besides I couldn't be Will's father… it's impossible."

"Why is that?"

"It's complicated"

"Of course it is" she smiled smugly, her tone indicating she had heard every excuse "let me guess you are sterile"

"What?!" Neal's eyes widened with shock, then narrowed when Peter laughed out loud before returning to his paper "No! It's just that… I wasn't available for … that, at the time he was conceived."

"Oh you were in a committed relationship… got it." the woman almost rolled her eyes. Neal bit his tongue to contain the comment about her lack of manners and professionalism. This woman was insulting at every opportunity.

"Well yes I was but …" he sighed "I was also in prison" the young woman's head jerked up abruptly.

"Really?" her voice sounded shocked "you don't seem the type…"

"But I do seem the type who would cheat on someone I supposedly loved… and then deny the child? That pretty much makes me the scum of the earth. What kind of father does that?!"

"Well… yeah I guess" she stumbled a bit over the words. "But prison is another level entirely…"

"Depends on what you did." Neal protested softly

"And what exactly did you do?"

"Bond forgery" Peter supplied helpfully

"Thank you, Peter… I had forgotten." the young man muttered sarcastically

"Just trying to keep Miranda from running in terror before she finished explaining the options"

"Bond forgery you said?" she looked at Peter "so he's not …"

"Dangerous?" he chuckled "no… but I'd check for my wallet before you leave if I were you." He smiled at the blue glare directed at him over her head.

"And you are?"

"Agent Peter Burke… FBI."

"I see."

"I'm his supervisor… Neal is a consultant with our team."

"A consultant for the FBI… who was in prison three years ago?" she looked over her reading glasses suspiciously at the agent.

"Yes" he shrugged "as strange as it sounds he is a highly valued member of my team" Neal beamed at that and Peter sighed inwardly. He would never hear the end of that admission he thought as the young man silently mouthed "highly valued" a couple of times as though trying it out.

"Thank you." Miranda arranged her dress studiously straightening her shoulders "so you, Mr. Caffrey, deny being the father of the minor but you indicate willingness to maintain custody of said minor until such time as his mother is located?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"May I ask why?"

"Because… I don't want to see him placed in foster care."

"You think he would be better off with you?" she raised her eyebrows doubtfully.

"I have a comfortable home with room for him, I have stable employment, I don't do drugs or drink to excess… Yes I think I could take care of him." He flashed her a smile, mischief in his eyes.

"You also think quite highly of yourself" she returned "Agent Burke, in your opinion will the boy be safe in Mr. Caffrey's custody?"

"Yes" he said without the slightest hesitation, looking at Neal toying with his cufflinks "Miss… Neal… well he relates to kids better than most people and he is very gentle and protective of them."

Ok…" she hesitated "then as the living arrangements appear clean and healthy, I will grant temporary custody… but on extremely conditional grounds, under the supervision of CPS and Agent Burke… and only until I can find a more suitable placement or his mother is located whichever comes first. Is that understood Mr. Caffrey?"

"Yes. Miranda, you are absolutely clear." She snorted softly at his use of her first name. He rolled his eyes as soon as her back was turned. As soon as the door closed behind her he smirked

"And she thinks I think highly of myself…"

"Don't tell me you're insulted she didn't fall for your charm." Peter grinned openly when the woman left.

"She told me I took scum of the earth to another level… I think that qualifies as being a valid reason to be insulted."

"I'll concede that might have been a little over the top."

"You think?" he shook his head slightly. Neal grinned when he received a mildly sympathetic clap on the shoulder "so… Highly valued..."

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He jerked awake abruptly for the second night in a row. His mind groggy with sleep deprivation, Neal silently tried to determine what had awakened him.

"MOOOOMMMY!" The cry repeated frantically rising in pitch to a scream now. Neal bounded out of bed. Fighting the sheet tangled around his legs to avoid falling, he darted across the room to the small bed June had produced for William.

"Shhhh! It's ok buddy. You're safe… It's ok" he whispered in a tone he hoped was soothing to the toddler. He gingerly picked up the ragged stuffed bear with the bandaged foot from the floor beside the bed and handed him back to the tiny boy. Wide blue eyes shone up at him in the street light spilling in the French doors, tears running freely as the child sobbed. Neal scooped the little form up and held him, covering his uncertainty with soft unintelligible words.

"I want my mommy!" the little one wailed

"I know you do. I know." He murmured "My friend Peter is doing everything he can to find her…its ok. It's going to be ok." He desperately hoped he wasn't lying to the little boy… he had a rule about lying to children. His words seemed to have the desired effect on the toddler as little William settled more comfortable in his arms crying quietly now, still but for an occasional hiccup that jarred his sleepy form. Half asleep as well, Neal almost missed the soft question.

"You not leab me?'

"I won't leave you. I'll keep you safe until your mommy comes back, I promise." Again he hoped it was the truth, as he snuggled the little one close, swaying slightly until the small body relaxed and the boy's even breathing told him the child was lost in more peaceful dreams. He lowered the little guy into bed and stumbled back to his own, but sleep didn't come… his thoughts swirling over the events of the last two days. What was on the memory card, who was William's mother, for that matter who was his father and why did the man look so much like Neal? Who kidnapped the boy's mother and was she ok tonight? Why did they kidnap her? He lay stiffly in his bed until the early rays of the morning sun peaked over his balcony.


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh Neal!" Elizabeth's expression was pure delight, her blue eyes following the toddler as he crawled across the floor pushing a small car. "He is adorable!"

"Isn't he." The young man smiled. Elizabeth standing at his door at six in the morning had been unexpected, after everything that he brought into her life recently he was surprised she was still speaking to him, but her reaction to Will was no surprise. "Can I get you anything? I was just about to make breakfast…"

"No thank you, that's fine, I already ate. When Peter told me last night that a woman left her son with you… I thought maybe you needed some help, but you seem to have everything under control." Neal grinned.

"Not everything… I actually don't have a lot of experience with toddlers." He chuckled self derisively "Taking another person to the bathroom is a definitely a new experience." She giggled at that. "June helped us sort it out."

"He looks just like you… Peter said he isn't yours?"

"It is disturbing isn't it?"

"It is … remarkable." she smiled diplomatically. Neal decided to allow the look to pass unchallenged. The little boy abandoned the car in favor of climbing onto the bed. "He seems to be clever too" she commented drily as the small boy dragged a little box to give him the necessary boost.

"Very…" Neal glanced at the clock, a worried frown on his face. "Elizabeth would you mind helping him get dressed… I have an hour until I have to be at work and I still have to…" he gestured to his own pajamas and the boys footed sleepwear.

"Absolutely"

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Scooping up the child, Neal gently deposited him in her lap. Bending to eye level with the boy he said "Will, this is Elizabeth… she is my friend and she is going to help you with your clothes, ok?"

"Ok Eal… are you leabing?" his thumb found its way into his mouth.

"I have to go to work in a little while but I'll be back."

"Otay"

"Who is watching him while you're gone?" Elizabeth asked

"June said she would… she has to run out for some quick errands at seven but Olivia is down stairs until she gets back." He shrugged "She didn't exactly hire on to be a babysitter but it's only for a few minutes."

"I could watch him." She offered almost hopefully, making Neal wonder why she and Peter never had children.

"You wouldn't mind?" He flashed her a bright knowing grin "Olivia will be relieved… He can be a handful." Elizabeth chuckled and the young man had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. He sighed

"I wish he **_was_** mine, Elizabeth but…" guys like me don't get happy endings, he finished silently, or families. He almost believed he had found both with his friends here…

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Peter glanced quickly around the bullpen, noting that Neal had yet to arrive before waving Diana up to his office. The young woman nodded. She gave him a tight smile as she approached, of course she knew what he was going to ask first.

"Anything?"

"On the woman kidnapped outside Caffrey's? No." she shrugged "missing persons and NYPD are working on it but so far, other that Neal's description of the man and the car there really are no leads. Whoever took her has dropped completely off the grid."

"What about the woman? Any luck IDing her from his sketch?"

She shook her head "nothing. It's like she doesn't exist."

"I don't think Neal made her up."

"Me either but her face just isn't in the database."

"Thanks Diana." He smiled tightly "Keep trying."

"Will do boss,"

"And Diana I want to ask you to do something… strange."

"What's that boss?"

"Run Neal's picture through the data base…"

"Ok?" she gave him a baffled look

"Pair it with the name Michael Scotts."

"New alias on Caffrey...?"

"Our mystery woman called Neal that. He says he never used that alias but if she mistook him for the guy…"

"Then Neal's face might be close enough to trigger a match… I'm on it."

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Neal shrugged out of his overcoat and hung it neatly behind his desk, lips turning down a bit at the nasty turn the weather had taken over night. From bright sunny spring yesterday to freezing rain and sleet this morning… just walking from the cab into the federal building had left him damp and chilled…the weatherman predicted the unpleasant weather would last all week. Which was just perfect to match his mood. Three days and there was still no trace of William's mother. He sighed, the little guy was ok during the day, but he cried for mommy every night. Despite his reservations he was getting attached to the toddler, and he couldn't stand seeing the baby sob for her, clinging to him and pleading to go home.

He looked up as Miranda charged into the office an envelope tucked under her arm as she shot him an icy glare, motioning him to follow as she took the stairs as though she owned the White Collar office. Peter met her at the top of the staircase.

"Good morning Miss Wallace." He looked calm in the face of her cold fury. "What brings you to see us this morning?"

"Privacy policy demands I discuss this matter in confidence with Mr. Caffrey." She shot Neal another glare "do you have a space that we will not be over heard." Peter glanced at the younger man and with a small shrug led them into his office. Miranda seemed to find the space acceptable as she lay her manila envelope on the desk and waved Neal to a chair dismissively "if you will excuse us Agent Burke …"

Neal looked at his friend, then reluctantly back at the angry woman… he sent the older man a nervous look "Peter can stay if he wants." The kid said casually as though it didn't matter either way.

"Very well" Miranda said as the agent settled into his chair with a stubborn set of his jaw. "I will discuss the matter with him here." She opened the envelope and Neal noticed it had already been unsealed and he frowned. "It would appear Mr. Caffrey, that despite your protests to the contrary you are the boy's father."

"That's impossible!" Neal caught his voice rising and took a deep breath to calm his tone though it did nothing for his racing heart that seemed have lodged in his throat. He made an attempt to swallow it before he continued "I told you I was in prison three years ago"

"I am aware that certain types of visits can be arranged Mr. Caffrey." The way she said his name so smugly grated on his nerves.

"You're right" Neal met her eyes with an expression of absolute calm and reason "But there are conditions and the visits are recorded. If you check my record you will see I was first ineligible… and if I had such a visit it certainly wouldn't have been with a stranger."

"Ineligible?"

"Unmarried."

"DNA does not lie Mr. Caffrey."

"I am aware of the science of genetics but… I'm telling you it is physically impossible" Mozzie's clone theory was beginning to sound more rational by the moment, because he knew he didn't have a brother... at least...

"There must be some explanation…" she fixed him with a dark look but her certainty visibly wavered. "An off the books visit arranged by a well -paid guard… a nurse in the infirmary…"

"No. I was … I had a girlfriend… I planned to propose. I would never have betrayed her like that."

"And she can confirm your relationship?"

"I think that matter isn't within the scope of your investigation" Peter broke in and Neal sent him a grateful look. He really didn't want to try to explain that to this woman. She's have him painted as an abusive stalker and she would probably decide he was responsible for... the way it ended too.

"Very well" she conceded "but how ever it happened, he is the father of the minor in question."

Neal brightened suddenly at a new thought "Does this mean you won't be looking for a foster home to place him in?" Miranda sent him a startled look.

"As the biological parent… assuming there is no evidence of abuse or neglect, and based on the abandonment of the minor by the other parent… I have no choice but to place the child in your custody until a hearing to arrange a permanent custody arrangement between you and his mother." Her brow creased "though if you want to maintain guardianship… and are willing to take responsibility for the minor why are you so adamant that he isn't yours?"

"His name is William and his mother didn't abandon him she left him with me to protect him… she was kidnapped off the street just a few minutes later…"

"You didn't answer my question?"

"Will is a sweet smart little boy… I would love for him to be my son, but I know with absolute certainty that he can't be…"Neal met her gaze evenly "there just isn't any way, no matter what your file says." He said it sadly… letting more longing seep into his voice than he intended to. A son would mean a family… a chance at building a real home. He pushed the thought aside.

"I see…" With a confused look the social worker gathered her purse and file and stalked out of the room.

"You ok?" Peter asked. Neal plastered a grin on his face albeit a bit stiffly

"I'm great." His enthusiasm was too forced, he knew it the moment the words left his mouth. His friend offered only a reproving look in response. "How am I supposed to be?" he shrugged "I managed to get a son… without having sex with or even meeting his mom… I thought you were supposed to get paid for sperm donation." He tried to lighten the atmosphere.

"Neal…"

"He's a sweet kid Peter, smart and cute … and a real handful."

"Exactly how I would picture your son…"

"But he can't be mine." Neal shrugged "even if I wish he was" he added silently in his mind.

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Pulling his most trusted subordinates quietly into his office, Peter waited until they were seated before he began…

"Jones as odd as it sounds I need you to check with the prison… Will is between 24 and 30 months… I need you to confirm Neal didn't any conjugal visits during the time he might have been conceived."

"Sure?" he frowned "but isn't that an invasion of privacy?"

"Just verifying what he already told me." Peter's lips twisted up into an almost smile "might find out if there were any pretty nurses working in the infirmary too… and find out if there is any record of … well…" this part was really awkward "collection of semen samples…"

"Eww" Diana commented under her breath. Glancing at her co-worker she smirked "Glad you are making that call, not me." Jones wrinkled his nose helplessly

"I need you to make a few calls as well" Peter began, she flinched inwardly

"Tell me they have nothing to do with Caffrey's sex life…please"

"I need you track down Neal Bennett's original birth certificate… not the one that Neal uses… I'm pretty sure he got that from the Marshals when he first left home… or he forged it… either way, I want the original paper copy from thirty years ago."

"I can do that."

"Any luck on finding Michael Scotts.

"Yes and no… I got a red flag, so I know he exists… probably, but that's as far as I can get, so far."

"Well keep trying."

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Will chattered happily as he shook the salad dressing in the plastic container. Perched on a stool at the counter he was "helping" make dinner.

Neal flinched slightly as the door slammed open, looked up from the broccoli he was cutting, and reflexively caught the small flailing arm as the stool the boy was perched on, wobbled.

"Hey Moz… not knocking again I see." He kept is voice bland.

"I fail to see the reason to warn people of my approach, especially given the grave circumstances."

"I can think of a few reasons some warning would be nice…" Neal grinned

"Stop grinning, this is serious" the older man snapped.

"What is?" he regarded his friend "Did you find something on the card?"

"Take it!" Mozzie hastily withdrew the device from his pocket "give it to the suits and forget you ever laid eyes on it, Neal!"

"What's on it?"

"It's better that you don't know!" the small man paced the length of the apartment before coming back to face his companion. "Your new girlfriend… she's a terrorist!

"What! What's on the card Moz?"

"I told you, you are better off not knowing… you know it is bad if I'm telling you to go to the suits but this… don't just go, RUN this to them… I only saw enough to know I didn't want to know more. I know you like to play with fire but this… stay far away from whatever this is!" he spun on his heal and bolted for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Given the situation I think it best if I go to ground for a while. For once, Neal, please listen to me and leave it alone."


	4. Chapter 4

"Boss?" Diana's voice startled him, pulling his eyes away from the mountain of paper work on his desk. The look on her face spoke volumes.

"You found something?"

"Caffrey's birth certificate… check this out." She pointed to the line that listed type of birth, plurality duel birth. Neal Bennett was listed as infant B.

"He does have a twin…? He told me …"he trailed off considering what exactly Neal actually said.

"Look, Boss maybe…maybe the twin is a girl… or a green-eyed red head and he thought it was irrelevant" she shrugged.

"True." Peter looked at her intently "Was the second twin a girl?"

"I have no idea. I haven't found the second birth certificate" she shook her head "I had a hard time finding that one."

"What do you mean?"

"That's where things get strange." The quirk of her lips added, as usual. "The Virginia state registrar does not have a copy of this certificate in their computer records."

"They don't?"

"They had to dig it out of their paper records… apparently an amended version was filed two and a half years after Neal was born…"

"An amended version?"

"Listing him as a single birth,"

"Really?" Peter frowned "he didn't go into WitSec until after he was three… why would his twin be erased from the records nearly a year before that?"

"I don't know boss…" she hesitated "you want me to keep digging? This is getting pretty…personal but if you want…"

"Yeah." He met her gaze for a moment "I'll let you know."

"Ok" she nodded before turning to the door… the young agent paused just inside, glancing back over her shoulder "Do you think Caffrey knows…?"

Peter sighed. Did he think Neal knew about a twin whose existence had apparently been expunged completely before he was three…? There was only one way to find out.

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Ten thirty… William was sleeping peacefully for now. Neal was exhausted but his mind was still reeling from Miranda's news, and he admitted, from Mozzie's reaction to the memory card as well. Unable to even contemplate sleep, he lost himself in a painting… not even really focused on what took shape under his quickly moving brush… he simply let his mind wander through all of his distressing thoughts and worries and his hand take care of the painting…

The knock on his door made him jump involuntarily. Peter's voice filtered through the wood.

"Coming" he called softly as he wiped his smudged hands on a worn towel. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a late night visit? I've been here all evening." He questioned as he stepped aside to let his friend enter the room.

"I know." Peter smiled a bit stiffly "I checked before I came."

"Of course you did." Neal chuckled "What would you have done if I had a date when you got here."

"Well…I thought given your guest" he glanced at the sleeping boy "A date was unlikely." Peter hesitated for a moment then straightening his shoulders he raised the paper in his hand "Why didn't you tell me you really do have a twin?"

"I don't." The younger man met his eye, there was something there… a glint of almost defiance before he relented "At least not anymore."

"What happened to him?"

"I have no idea." Neal hunched his shoulders, a look of peculiar sadness creeping into his blue eyes. "I'm not even really sure he was real."

"I have proof." The older man held up the papers again

"Proof I had a twin?" Neal cocked his head questioningly "I always wondered but…" He gently extradited the copy of his birth certificate from Peter's hand reading it quickly.

"You aren't sure he was real… what does that mean, exactly?" Peter watched him closely as Neal tried to contain the emotions that rushed through him.

"I have this vague memory…" Neal gestured weakly "of playing with another little boy…it's more like a dream really… like a memory of having a memory." He sighed "that doesn't even make sense, does it?"

"I understand what you are trying to say."

"Then Ellen had this baby picture I saw once … when I was about 7…8. She told me it was just me looking in a mirror but something was off… the position of the hands I think. Her explanation never quite seemed right to me. I never saw the picture again."

"You never asked?"

"Peter, no one ever mentioned me having a brother… not once."

"Your mother never…"

"My mother barely remembered I was there most days… she probably forgot he ever existed at all." The bitterness that escaped with those words made Neal flinch…he hadn't meant to admit so much about his childhood. He loved his mom, had tried to make her proud … to make her smile at him but…no matter what he did, she remained locked in the prison of her own pain. Lost in the memory of a perfect family that never existed. He sighed sadly, pushing the thought away.

"I see." Peter frowned and Neal knew he was reading too much between the lines, but he couldn't stop the next words before they slipped out.

"The only time she seemed to focus on me when I was small was when…" he stopped abruptly, a chill snaking up his spine. The memory of his mom's response to the name floating vividly into his mind.

"When?" the tone demanded an answer

"When I played with Nick…"

"Who is Nick?"

Neal dropped his head and a faint blush crept up his cheeks "my imaginary friend." It was hardly more than a whisper. He waited for the older man to laugh, but instead silence fell over the room.

"Your brother's name was Nick." It wasn't exactly a question, more of a declaration, but Neal looked up and shrugged helplessly, he had just reached the same conclusion.

"I don't know. Maybe my mom didn't forget him after all… she always got… angry, when she heard me mention Nick." he tried to push the image of his usually languid and mentally absent mother suddenly focused intensely on him, her face red and livid as she screamed "Didn't I Tell You NICK IS NOT REAL!" her eyes, dilated with whatever pills she took every day, filled with blind fury, her cold hand moving to slap his small cheek, once, twice, three times.

"Do you mind if I tell Diana to try to pull a birth certificate for Nick Bennett?" the younger man shrugged again studying the floor, his face pulled painfully tight as he pulled himself back to the present.

"Peter, he can't be William's father."

"Someone is Neal, if it's not you then…"

"But if… if he was real… I think he died." Neal looked up then, pain coloring his eyes even brighter than usual "it's the only explanation that makes sense."

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"Hon?" her voice was gentle "you coming to bed soon… it's after midnight."

"I'm sorry I just…"

"This about Neal isn't it." she sighed, as he nodded "What is it? Something to do with that missing woman and her sweet little boy, right?"

"Child services' DNA report came in this morning." Peter frowned "it said William is Neal's"

"But I thought you said that wasn't possible."

"It isn't." he sighed "so I had Diana do some digging."

"And…?"

"And Neal is a twin or at least he was."

"That is a worrisome thought… two of Neal Caffrey in this world" she smiled briefly but it faded under Peter's grim expression. "What happened?"

"I confronted him about it… demanded to know why he didn't tell me days ago…"

"It didn't go well?"

"He tried to hide it but I think it brought up some painful memories… I should have realized he didn't…that it would be difficult for him. The birth certificate was altered when he was two, his brother was completely erased from his life just months before his dad disappeared too."

"Completely erased? So you don't know where the brother is now? Neal doesn't know?"

"Neal thinks he must have died."

"You don't agree…"

"Someone fathered that little boy, and Neal was… otherwise occupied at the time."

"Are you going to try to find him?" she couldn't help sounding worried…the memory of what happened after they found the young man's father still fresh in her mind. Peter shrugged

'I don't even know where to start… I'm sure we can pull a birth certificate but beyond that… there aren't many records on a two year old."

"Maybe it's for the best, hon." She lay her hand on his shoulder gently "Neal's family tends to be…"

"Trouble?" he smiled grimly.

"I know it's not his fault, but maybe it's best if we just leave his past in the past."

"Except it keeps finding its way into our present even when we aren't looking." Peter looked at her wearily "fore warned is fore armed, right?" She frowned but sighed

"If he's genetically the same as Neal that means he's just as smart, right?" She looked at her husband eyes filled with concern "What will you do if this brother turns out to be… dangerous?"

"I don't know…"the sigh rattled in his throat "Take him down I guess."

"Just be careful, please" Elle warned

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Peter had been silent on the drive to the docks, had been disturbingly quiet since his phone rang forty five minutes ago, actually, Neal thought. He had simply stood up and motioned for Neal to follow. Now the younger man watched his friend's face tighten as he seemed to brace himself to speak.

"Neal…" the agent drew a slow breath before he continued. Neal found himself holding his breath. This wasn't going to be good. "Neal, NYPD found a woman matching your description of William's mother."

"Tell me she's alive." He pleaded. Neal wanted to feel relieved but he felt dread tighten around his heart. Peter's grave face told him too much, his silence… their location, the young man knew what was coming but he didn't want to hear it. Peter shook his head slowly.

"They pulled her body out of the Hudson about an hour ago." the older man confirmed Neal's fear. What was he going to tell the little boy at his apartment playing with June? The toddler who cried for her every night. William who had trusted him when he said his mother would come back. Neal promised him and now… he gulped down the sick feeling that rose in his throat.

"What are we doing here, Peter?" he knew the answer but, he really didn't think he could do it.

"We need you to identify her as the woman kidnapped outside your apartment on Tuesday." Peter met his gaze, brown eyes apologetic. "I know you don't like bodies, Neal but…" he nodded wordlessly. As they stepped out of the car the icy wind whipped through his coat, the cold dry snow stung his skin as he turned to face the falling ice. Even colder was the slim snake of dread that worked its way around his heart as he moved toward the frozen dock.

She lay at the end of the pier, uncovered, exposed in just a wet torn dress, no shoes. Tiny icy flakes clung to her eyelashes and collected in the corners of her eyelids. No coat. "She looks so cold," Neal thought, knowing it was ridiculous. A thin layer of ice was already forming on her skin...her ashy, blue- grey skin, her lips so full and red just a few days ago were now a pale blue line, split and bruised… her auburn hair lay around her lifeless face like a sodden halo. His stomach lurched as he took in the signs of the brutality she had endured…his eyes resting on the thin cut on her right cheek, the livid bruise under her eye, the burns on her sleeveless arms and bare legs, the way the twisted boneless limbs bent at impossible angles, the way her chest was caved in as if struck by a battering ram… and finally the bullet wound in the center of her breast… the projectile would have shredded through her heart, killing her quickly. He swallowed once, before looking up into Peter and the police detective's expectant eyes.

"That's her… that's William's mom." He turned away then… striding hurriedly away from the shattered body on the frozen wood.


	5. Chapter 5

Cold… he was cold. The thought registered through the fog in his head. The picture of William's mom lying dead on the pier filled his mind. He twisted his hat in trembling hands. All he could think was "How am I going to tell William?"

Neal never cared for death… for dead bodies. Violence turned his stomach just like he was sure it did every decent person in the world. It was worse when he knew the victim… well, in this case he didn't really know her but he had just spoken to the once beautiful woman a few days ago… he had her two year old son in his apartment, right now. Which brought him back to what he was going to tell the toddler. Mozzie's words last night suddenly came to mind "Your girlfriend is a terrorist!" if that was true… he refused to lie to William the way he had been lied to but… he couldn't tell that baby his mommy was a monster… Mozzie had been so agitated by the card…

The memory card!

He never gave it to Peter! The events of the last 24 hours had been so… crazy, insane, gut wrenching… all of the above… he had forgotten the memory card, the memory card he was still carrying in his wallet. The sound of footsteps on icy concrete raised his eyes.

"I know this isn't how you wanted this to end Neal." Peter sat down heavily on the bench beside him. "I'm sorry"

"Yeah me too." His sigh drifted away in the frigid wind. "This makes William essentially an orphan."

"His father is still out there somewhere."

"Yeah and he doesn't want to be found."

"What makes you so sure of that?" The older man's tone was doubtful but Neal just shrugged.

"Mozzie decrypted the memory card." Neal said softly after a moment.

"That's good… what does it have to do with-?"

"I'm not sure it is good…"

"Neal… what's on the card? What does it have to do with William's father?"

"I don't know."

"Neal…" there was a warning in that one word… warning him to be honest.

"I don't" he shrugged "Mozzie told me I was better off not knowing."

"And you expect me to believe you didn't peek?"

"He told me to give it straight to "the suits" and forget it ever existed."

"And that worried you…"

"Worried me? He told me to hand something over to government officials…Coming from Mozzie that doesn't disturb you?"

"Yeah" Peter agreed "just a little bit… yeah it does."

"So here it is." Neal fished the little device out of his wallet. "Do whatever you need to with it." Peter nodded, taking the card from his trembling fingers.

Silence fell… the soft sound of tiny needles of snow swooshing to the ground, coating the city in a layer of creaking, brittle white filled the moment between them.

"Any idea who she was?" Neal finally ventured

"We'll run her picture, prints and DNA through the system hopefully we'll get a hit."

"Mozzie said she was a terrorist…"

"Mozzie also thinks there are Hitler clones in New York."

"True." The young man tried for a smile but it didn't reach his blue eyes "but if it turns out she is… what am I supposed to tell William."

"I don't know" The agent sighed clapping his hand on his friend's shoulder "But you will figure out the right thing."

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She frowned at the two papers in her hand. The first was a copy of a birth certificate for Nicholas Brandon Bennett born March 21 of 1983, listed as infant A in a duel birth. The second paper was a death certificate… also for Nicholas Brandon Bennett. The date was July of 84… no day. 16 months old… Diana sighed, cause of death was listed as abusive brain injury… shaken baby syndrome. She had met James Bennett, knew he was a selfish, unfeeling man. Was it possible he killed his small son, then erased his existence from their lives…? She shook her head. Selfish, yes… brutal temper, absolutely… but that cold… While she could picture Bennet shaking his son in anger, and coolly covering his guilt, she couldn't picture him hiding the body long enough that there was no date on the death certificate. Which left the burning question. What happened to the boy?

She could keep digging but it seemed irrelevant to the current situation… she would only be satisfying her own curiosity. Was it fair to drag Caffrey through the details of his brother's death he probably didn't even remember… for no reason. Obviously Nick was not William's father. On the other hand DNA was not often used for body identification thirty years ago and if there was no date of death it was doubtful the boy could be identified visually… she shrugged. It couldn't hurt to dig a little deeper could it? What harm could there be in requesting a copy of the autopsy report and running a search for news articles? There probably wouldn't be anything enlightening but…

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His feet dragged reluctantly up the stairs… Neal had hesitated at the bottom hoping June was home and she could help him … he didn't want to face William, couldn't bear to face him. That baby upstairs wasn't going to understand… no matter what he said. That poor little guy's world was forever changed and he wasn't even big enough to comprehend …he swallowed. June however did not make an appearance so he started the daunting task of climbing the stairs.

Olivia looked up, slightly frazzled when he stepped into his apartment.

"Oh good, Mr. Caffrey maybe you can convince this little hurricane to take a nap?"

"Yeah…" he looked at the small boy currently dancing wildly to the cartoon music spilling from the TV, singing along as loud as he could. "I'll take care of him for a while." He watched the maid walk away then drawing a shaky breath he sat down on the couch and drew the toddler into his lap. Neal felt hot tears fill his eyes but he blinked them back and decided to wait until the show ended to destroy the child's world. Instead he cuddled the warm little body against his chest and rocked him gently.

As the credits came on he switched the television off and looked at William,

"I need to talk to you, buddy… about your mommy." He forced the words past the growing lump of guilt "I know I promised you my friend would bring her back…" the child nodded smiling brightly. "But something came up Will… and your mommy can't come back."

"Why not… when she can?" Bright blue eyes looked up at him earnestly and Neal choked on that guilt in his throat.

"Will buddy… What I mean is…"his fluid tongue was suddenly lead… "She can't come back…ever… some bad men…hurt her… and she's … she's dead." The child stared at him in horror. He didn't really understand dead but… he understood his friend said he was never going to see his mommy again. The tears came rapidly and Neal held him close as he wailed.

"MOMMY! I WANT MY MOMMY!" Neal closed his eyes running his fingers through the soft baby curls and cooed gentle words that meant nothing. Trying not to sob himself… he felt tears escape and slide down his cheeks… He failed… he lied to a child… one more line he swore he wouldn't cross.

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Peter lifted his head as the young agent dropped the report on his desk. He acknowledged the girl with a quick nod before picking up the folder with a sigh, he wasn't optimistic for any new information. Twenty four hours since the police department fished the young woman out of the river and her identity was still a mystery.

Or maybe it wasn't. Her picture… alive and vibrant stared up at him from the file. Amelia Woodbridge was an agent with MI5. His throat caught. This was bad. Very bad. His eyes scanned over the papers England sent over… by all appearances an upstanding and courageous agent…Which meant, whatever was on that card was probably…

His hand dropped to his phone unconsciously, dialing the number for the IT department without thought.

"This is Burke, I brought in a memory card yesterday, have you got anything off it yet?"

"Yeah actually we have… someone added an encryption key after the fact."

"Great." He breathed a sigh of relief "Can you give me a summary of what was on it?"

"Hold on I'll transfer you to the agent in charge of that job."

"Ok thanks." He drummed his fingers on his desk anxiously while he waited. Haversham thought Amelia was a terrorist… but if she was a legitimate agent that meant that…she was trying to keep whatever it held out of the wrong hands… the implications of that were disturbing. Of course that was assuming the little guy hadn't exaggerated the situation.

"Agent Burke?" the young slightly nasally voice broke Peter from his thoughts "This is agent Yates… you wanted to talk about that card you sent down?"

"Yes I did? I was hoping for a brief summary of the content."

"Well I'm still going through the information but as far as I can tell at this point... it seems to be a little outside White Collar's jurisdiction." The kid's tone was grim.

"What does that mean?" his stomach clenched

"At the moment it appears to be plans to shut down the power grids in the US, Canada and Western Europe… indefinitely."

"The power grids?" that would leave the nations extremely vulnerable

"There is more to the plan but I haven't sifted through it all yet" the youthful voice continued "but this is big… really big and ugly. They are planning to use dirty bombs on the power substations. Definitely not White Collar territory… I'm not even sure it's FBI territory."

"Thank you" he felt cold as he disconnected the call. An MI5 agent, a memory card with extremely dangerous plans… people who had proven they would kill to get it. He felt like they were trapped in a cheap spy novel… and of course Neal was right in the middle of it. Suddenly a bad feeling spiked through the agent. She gave the card to Neal. She was taken right outside his home… if the men who killed her back tracked…

Grabbing his phone he dialed his friend's number … it rang… once, twice, three times… on the sixth ring the call went to voice mail. The vague unease grew exponentially through concern into fear. Remembering far too vividly Amelia Woodbridge's broken body, he dialed again… directly to voicemail this time. The fear sliced through his heart like an icy knife when his phone rang in his hand. Peter recognized the number of the Marshal's tracking center and he knew with twisted certainty what they would tell him.

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He wasn't certain what it was that tipped him off, but there was something… a small sound, the creak of a floorboard, a vase shattering maybe, but whatever it was drew him from his lunch to the door of his apartment. Voices… soft, calm and cold enough to send shivers up Neal's spine, filtered up the stairway .With a quick glance at the tiny sleeping form on his bed, Neal stepped out into the hallway. He frowned, with the exception of Olivia, the maid, the house was supposed to be empty, so who were the men downstairs?

Halfway down the stairs he caught a glimpse of Olivia, cuffed and gagged while three men discreetly searched the room. It only took a moment to recognize the large man who kidnapped William's mother. A fraction of a second later, the man looked up and noticed the slim form on the stairs…There was nowhere to hide, Neal swallowed the fear that rose thick and hot in his throat as the man snarled at him.

"Scott! Of course she gave it to you." The man chuckled unpleasantly. "I don't suppose you will hand it over civilly?" Neal took a slow breath before he answered trying to embody the persona of the man they clearly thought he was. It would be easier to play the role, he thought if he knew anything at all about the man…

"I have no idea what you are talking about." He flinched inwardly as the man lunged at him, grabbing and pulling him roughly down the stairs. Neal bounced off the railing painfully, the newel post bruising his abdomen but he maintained his feet. Though his stomach throbbed painfully as he struggled to catch his breath, he projected outward calm. His hand found his phone in his pocket… with a small smile he tapped the screen discreetly, as he grinned at the man. "Have we met? You look very familiar…"

The man scowled "Give it to me."

"Maybe if you told me what you are looking for…" the man cocked the gun and briefly pointed it in Neal's direction before shifting it to Olivia's head.

"Give me the memory card or your partner here dies."

"My partner?" Neal forced disparaging laugh "You think she is my partner? I hate to discourage your attempt at thought… but she is just the maid." He hoped his disinterest would protect her.

"So you don't care if I shoot her?"

"Well I would prefer you didn't… after all someone has to clean up this place and good help **_is_** hard to find, but if you must…" the shrug that followed was possibly the hardest thing Neal had ever done. He stood stock still as the mountain of humanity fingered the trigger casually… finally the man chuckled again, like gravel in a garbage disposal, Neal thought, as the gun rose back toward him.

"Where is the card?" impatience tinged the voice now.

"Even if I knew what you wanted, I would have hidden it somewhere you will never find it."

"You will come with me." The man snapped, bringing his enormous pistol to bare on the center of Neal's chest.

"I don't think so. I regret that I am otherwise engaged…" Neal backed away until he felt the other two men move into his space behind him. Their grip on his arms suddenly bruisingly tight. He swallowed, fighting as hard fingers searched his body.

"He's not carrying" the voice growled in his ear. The big man tisked reproachfully

"It's my own home," Neal snapped "of course I'm not." The man holding him shoved him violently to the floor, kicking him hard in the temple as he fell… the world swam out of focus. The voices a low hum just beyond the grasp of his reeling mind. A familiar ring filtered through the haze. He felt hands on his body but he couldn't determine what they were doing. There was a crack of something striking the floor near his head. Vaguely he heard someone's voice break through the fog…

"Look what we found upstairs…" harsh laughter followed that. Someone gripped his forearm tightly, suddenly his body felt alarmingly cold and distant. Everything fell away into silence.


	6. Chapter 6

The drive to Neal's house was silent and tense. Nervous glances passed between the agents… Peter's quick briefing on the contents of the memory card and identity of the murdered young woman as they dashed to the car had set everyone on edge. Neal's cut anklet did not bode well for his safety, in anyone's mind. Nor did the open door that swung listlessly in its hinges when they arrived. The plump maid bound, motionless and limp in the chair confirmed Peter's fears. Her pulse racing and her pupils blown from whatever drug they gave her, she was not going to be helpful as a witness… at least not for a while.

The tracker, cut with a surgically smooth incision, lay on the floor beside a cracked cell phone. The house was eerily silent.

"Check every room." Peter instructed quietly. He doubted they would find anything else. Clearly this was the site of the abduction. He flinched, glancing around a moment before he knelt beside the phone. Pulling on gloves, he picked up the device…

"Tell me you left me something, Neal." The phone was turned off, the screen badly cracked. Hesitantly Peter turned it on… "Of course it's locked." He sighed. He passed it to Diana who extended an evidence bag.

"I'll get IT to crack it as fast as possible."

"Faster if you can." He frowned, glancing at the maid, now unbound and lain carefully on the couch "How is she?"

"She seems stable…but she is completely out, the EMTs are on their way…"

"Good. Get someone to accompany her to the hospital. Tell them to be gentle but we are going to need her statement as soon as possible."

"Will do Boss." She smiled grimly as Jones and two other agents came down the stairs.

"Nothing up there, except what looks like half of Caffrey's lunch and a rumpled bed." The younger man shook his head "We'll dust for prints of course but Peter…" he hesitated and the older agent knew he wasn't going to like what he said next. "The little boy is gone too." Peter nodded in acknowledgement, rubbing his eyes to cover his sudden spike of fear.

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Waking to find himself tossed into a room alone and unbound was strangely unsettling, Neal decided, through the pounding in his head. It implied there was no chance of him escaping… that these men believed him utterly helpless. Of course they didn't know Neal Caffrey, he reminded himself encouragingly. They did seem familiar with his doppelgänger and he wondered briefly what skills they had in common. For instance could Michael Scotts pick a lock in eight point two seconds? Could he convince a captor with a gun that he was on his side and trustworthy in less than five minutes?

He frowned… those skills were of course completely useless in this room. There was no lock or hinges on this side of the door… nor was there anyone to con. He was in fact quite effectively stuck…he shivered. The room was cold and he realized, as his mind cleared, he was stripped of his jacket, tie and dress shirt. Leaving only his slacks and undershirt… a glance at his feet was unnecessary… he could feel the cold rough cement against his bare feet.

Pushing himself up, he took inventory of his situation… whatever drug they gave him left his stomach decidedly queasy, or maybe that was the kick to the side of his head. His hands shook slightly, he glared at them as though his look could steady them. In the corner he glimpsed an obscured security camera. His gaze traveled reluctantly to the center of the room… to a chair. A smooth straight backed wooden chair. Big and sturdy in Adirondack style, the antique piece had been bolted to the floor and equipped with heavy leather straps on the armrests, legs and back. He walked slowly closer… to study the chair more closely. His queasy stomach almost rebelled. Though it had clearly been wiped off… blood still lingered, crusted thick, dry and dark in the crevices of the wood. He shuttered internally, before slumping wearily down by the wall.

The silence of the room began to be oppressive. He wondered how long he had been locked in here. He wondered if the team was having any luck finding him. He wondered if Olivia was ok, he desperately hoped they hadn't hurt her… or William. The thought of the toddler brought him back to his feet. His throat tightened at the image of that baby left alone in that big house… but the alternatives were worse. He swallowed back the contents of his stomach as the horrific possibility crossed his mind that they might have killed the little boy. Time seemed to stop…his watch was gone, he noticed, so were his phone and the anklet. How many hours had he spent alone in this bare concrete dungeon?

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It took six hours and nine calls to Mozzie to convince the abnormally paranoid man to venture out of his safe house to unlock Neal's damaged phone. The little man blanched, and still patently refused to help when first presented with the device and Peter's request. Once persuaded that Neal was in danger… the agent's mention of the memory card set him off like a fire under his backside… he deftly entered his friend's password.

When the phone was unlocked it only took two minutes to find what the agent was looking for, a video… more than a minute of recording… mostly black except for an approximately five second pan around the room, giving brief glimpses of three sturdy looking armed men and Olivia gagged but conscious . Voices filtered through the darkness and a rather ominous thud. Peter strained to hear the words. He caught bits and pieces, something about the card, and hid it somewhere else. Then Peter smiled as someone called out "Franks, help me with him, he's heavier than he looks... Hamlin make sure the woman forgets we were here." The video ended with a familiar ring tone and the rustling of fabric. Peter sighed, he had two partial names and hopefully IT could get him a decent still of each man.

"You did good kid" he muttered "now it's our turn." He looked at the man beside him "Thanks Haversham."

"Just bring him home" the little guy muttered fiercely.

"I'll do my best." He tried not to think about Amelia Woodbridge lying battered and lifeless on the dock yesterday, as he hurried back to his car. Instead he called the office "Diana… I've got video of Neal's abductors, I'm bringing it in now… I need it cleaned up ASAP."

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When the door swung silently open Neal looked up curiously. Anything, even the pain he knew was coming would be better than sitting here in this eternal quiet. Sounds flowed through the door… sound proof room, that didn't bode well for his future. The same three men stepped into the room. The mountain of muscle waved the other two forward and Neal found himself held firmly between them.

"Wait… Wait! Can't we talk about this?" Neal had to try "I think this is all a big misunderstanding." The man grunted. Cocking his head to side Neal tried to appeal to the men holding him, but they didn't even meet his eyes, just gazed at him in cold distain. He braced himself as the big man drew back his fist.

The next few minutes were agony. Each blow followed by the same two questions. "Where is the card?" And "who has it now?" Since he actually didn't know the answer to either question he said nothing. He glared at the man but it was an empty gesture and he knew it.

Through the haze of pain that enveloped him he felt his body forcibly moved to the dreaded chair in the center of the room. The straps were pulled tight around his wrists and ankles. His finally found the strength to fight back as the leather band was wrapped around his chest but he knew it was too late… whatever was coming, he was already completely defenseless.

Waiting for the sadist with a knife or a hot poker that he assumed came next, he was surprised when the men turned to leave.

"Maybe he'll be more willing to cooperate when we come back." was the last thing he heard before the heavy door slammed shut, leaving him alone in that silent room again. Neal was never a fan of silence.

He reluctantly took stock of his injuries. His chest ached and throbbed, he hoped nothing was broken, but he doubted he was that lucky given the muscles the big man had. Quickly running his tongue over his teeth he was pleasantly surprised to find none of them were knocked loose though the taste of blood filled his mouth. His right cheek burned with deep throbbing pain in the bone and he felt blood running from it in a continual slow flow. He determined his right eye wouldn't open fully and opening his mouth was torture. His arms felt bruised where strong hands gripped them too tightly as well.

Pulling against the straps was pointless but he couldn't help trying. The room abruptly fell absolutely dark.

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He almost didn't look at it when it was delivered. Amelia Woodbridge's autopsy report was not high on the list of things Peter wanted to see eighteen hours after his friend was taken by the same people, but a moment after tossing it aside, the agent picked the file up again. There might be a clue… something to prevent Neal from ending up the same way. Half way to his eyebrows in medical jargon, he didn't hear Jones and Diana enter the room until the younger man cleared his throat. Peter glanced up and with a sigh he lay the folder aside.

"Tell me you have something." He ran his hand across his eyes and through his hair wearily.

"Rodney Franks and David Hamelin" she passed the files to him with a small triumphant grin. "We are still working on an ID for the third guy, he seems to be calling the shots but these two work for James Dennison."

"What have you got on Dennison?"

"He runs a pretty large organization that deals strictly in information… any kind of information. It's an incredibly lucrative business… even legitimate companies use his services sometimes to get information on competitors and employees… but his specialty has always been the dangerous kind. Where to acquire weapons…when a shipment of drugs is scheduled… vulnerabilities in security systems. That card… right up his alley. He would auction something like that off to the highest bidder and never give it a second thought."

"Any idea who the buyer is?"

"No sir, but I think this was still in Dennison's hands when Agent Woodbridge acquired it."

"How do you think he came by it?"

"We're still working on that… it's a pretty detailed plan, it's possible he stole or bought it from someone intending to enact it."

"So you think he is the man behind all of this?"

"I do, we've never known how he gets the information he sells Boss, but it's been suspected for a while that it sometimes isn't pretty."

"Pull everything we've got on him, properties, holdings, employees and keep looking for the name of this guy… he's got some pull in Dennison's organization, obviously."

"Will do Boss," she hesitated "My dad is pulling in some favors from his friends at the state department…to get information on Michael Scotts, I've been stone walled at every turn but I'm hopeful he will be able to get us something on the man these people think Caffrey is."

"Good, let me know what he gets." She nodded in response.

"Peter" Jones began "I have the toxicology report on Olivia Dominguez"

"What did they find?

"They aren't sure what it is exactly, a cocktail of designer drugs but whatever it is, it's meant to ensure she never remembers the last six or seven hours prior to losing consciousness"

"D*** IT!" he threw his hands in the air in frustration "We needed her to remember… Who knows what she overheard."

"Yeah… they could have told her anything… the doctor said the drug blocked the information from making it to long term memory… she will never recall it."

"Thanks." He sighed. "Ok let's focus on what we do have. Get bolos out on Franks and Hamelin… I'll let the little guy know who to keep an ear out for."

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Squeezing his eyes closed didn't completely shut out the glare of the flashing lights… and oh how Neal wished he could cover his ears to muffle the blaring music, if you could call that noise music. Though he doubted that even Mozart would have sounded like music at this volume. It rattled the concrete walls, shaking the solid steal door in its frame. His ear drums felt like they were bleeding . He tried to focus on anything other than the pounding rhythm and strobing light but after three rounds with the big man's fists, thinking about his throbbing ribs and head wasn't much of an improvement. He tried to ignore his feet and forearms entirely, but the burning was getting harder to push out of his mind, just the memory of the flame moving back and forth over his soles and wrists was agony. He focused on the cold that seeped into his bones… the goose bumps pulled his skin so tight he could barely move and his teeth chattered involuntarily despite his efforts to appear unconcerned.

He had lost all track of how long he had been awake, but he was pretty sure that without whatever drug they injected regularly into his system was, that caused his heart to race and his mind to swirl busily, he would have long since passed out… and he wished desperately that he could.

He had maintained he knew nothing about the card until the last round. The drugs and the flame licking hungrily at his flesh had pulled the information from him that he already passed the device to his boss. He blanched, recalling that. They immediately wanted to know his boss's name. Neal sighed and dropped his head back against the chair in utter exhaustion. He knew it was a mistake… that they would come if he even appeared to be dozing, but he just couldn't help it. Though he didn't move he tried to mentally brace himself for another round. He would not tell them… could not tell them who his boss was. He swallowed roughly, muscles tensing involuntarily as he just made out the sound of the door opening over the cacophony.

The sudden silence made his stomach lurch, footsteps echoing to loud in his ringing ears.


	7. Chapter 7

Waiting…

Waiting was frustrating under the best of times, Diana thought but waiting when a friend's life is on the line is torture. She pushed the thought of torture away and sat up straighter in her chair. She would not think about the autopsy report she read yesterday. This waiting was driving her crazy. Waiting for information on Dennison's people, specifically the big guy in the video. Waiting for her dad's friend to get back to her, two days of sitting around waiting for a lead, since they identified Franks and Hamelin had her ready to punch the next person who walked by.

Her email pinged and she checked it instantly hoping it was what she was waiting for. Instead the subject read **Police Report Nicholas Bennett Disappearance/ Homicide /Autopsy report** , sent from DC police department. Her hand hovered over the email… uncertain if she should open it. It hardly seemed the time but after all she was just waiting. She opened the file.

Light brown eyes scanned the report expertly. The little boy went missing on July 7, 1984 from his own bed room… his disappearance was quickly connected with a series of infant abductions that plagued the area that year. Twelve children went missing in exactly the same manner. All taken from their bed rooms between midnight and six am, a single origami stork left on their pillow. None of the parents heard a sound, no one saw anything. All of the babies were less than a year old with the exception of Nick Bennett.

The apparent perpetrator was caught in February of 85, a thirty-five year old man fired from an adoption agency in January of 84 for disregard for procedure and borderline abusive behavior… He directed the police to three tiny bodies… all killed by shaking, the other children were never found. One of the bodies was a little boy between fifteen and eighteen months old. He was killed six to nine months earlier.

Diana clenched her jaw. She was a tough woman but things like this made her sick. She kept reading, unable to make herself stop. The identity of the boy was officially confirmed by default, Nicholas was the only child reported missing, connected with this series of kidnappings, over a year old…the case was listed as still open. The kidnapper though arrested was never convicted, the charges dropped on a technicality… she closed the file then. She definitely would not be telling Caffrey any of this, unless she had to. Diana froze… Neal… she suddenly hoped she could tell him all of it. As devastating as the information would be for the young man, she hoped for a chance to tell him, because that would mean they brought him home safely.

The ringing of her phone pulled her out of her thoughts. Grabbing the device and answering in one rapid movement, she listened for a moment with baited breath.

"Thank you." She managed before ending the call from England. She rose hastily and rushed up the stairs bursting into Peter's office "Boss, We have an ID on the big guy! His name is Henry Ridgemont, he owns five properties in England and New England believed to be fronts for part of Dennison's operations. "

Peter grinned up at her and Diana felt herself returning the look.

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He couldn't take much more, he knew it. Every breath had become agony since the seventh… or was it the eighth round with Big Man's fists, the skin on his forearms were nothing but blisters, burst and blacked at the edges … he assumed the bottom of his feet and under his arms looked much the same, blood dripped slowly but steadily into his eyes and mouth. Neal had reached the crisis point… he was going to break or die soon. He choked on that thought but it lingered, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

The noise and light show continued, blaring as vulgarly as before but Neal barely noticed anymore…with an effort he focused his eyes on his hands and gritted his teeth. He could not leak any more information. Giving these monsters Peter's name was out of the question. The consequences of that were unthinkable. Which left him one desperate option… he twisted his wrists fiercely trying feverishly to catch the scratched, blistered flesh on the sharp prong of the buckle. It was a ridiculous idea but he was out of choices and they were going to kill him anyway. If he could just pierce an artery…

The door banged open and Big Man stood in front of him again. Neal clenched his fists and locked his jaw. He could stand one more round… just this one more and then he would find his escape… the only escape her dared hope for.

"We don't seem to be making much progress Mr. Scott." The grim face smiled coldly down at him black eyes glittering "Perhaps we should try something new… What do you say?"

"It doesn't matter to me … "he shrugged or tried to, his shoulders hitched up a bit but the pain in his ribs stopped the movement short "I don't know where the card is now. I will not know where the card is tomorrow or the next day or next week, but by all means keep using me as a punching bag… you look like you could use the exercise." the man growled at him fiercely

"I will get my memory card." Big Man snarled coolly, ready to make his next move.

"I keep telling you it's gone… and I don't know where."

"But you know who has it."

"I don't, my boss has a boss who has a boss I don't know what happened to it once I handed it over." The same words he had repeated for an eternity. Big Man motioned toward the door. A heartbeat later and Neal's blood ran cold. He didn't have the strength to throw up even a thin façade of calm. "No! NO! Please don't!" He pleaded as one of the other men strode into the room grinning, his left arm wrapped securely around William's waist, his right languidly pressing a gun to the toddler's temple. "Leave him out of this."

"Ahhh, finally we find your weak spot Mr. Scott."

"Don't hurt him, please." Neal knew he was begging but… But William was two years old and these monsters killed his mom. The young man could not let them hurt that baby… but he couldn't betray his friend either. There it was, one last idea from his swirling, panicking mind…panic! And Neal willingly surrendered himself to the tide of despair he had been so frantically holding back "Please let him go. I don't know where it is… if I did I would tell you. For his life I would tell you anything… anything at all. Please…" he breathed as deeply as he could, forcing himself to almost sob. Pulling up helpless tears wasn't hard, they had hovered just below the surface for a long time now. He fought the restraints pulling at the straps until he couldn't help whimpering in pain. "Please let him go, please I don't know anything else. Don't hurt him." Neal screamed frantically, glancing discreetly at the small boy, the calm logical center of his mind quietly determining that he was basically unhurt. The child's terrified gaze tore his heart out though. "Please…" his voice faded involuntarily as the last of his strength waned.

Big Man glared at him for a long moment. "Put the kid down, Franks… if he knew any more he would have told us." despite his weakness Neal covered a tiny triumphant smile by dropping his head in unfeigned relief, as the thug sat Will on the floor. His triumph was short lived when Big Man produced his 1911 Desert Eagle. Neal swallowed painfully. The mountain of a man pressed the weapon to the center of the young man's chest, just below his breastbone. He had time for one startled breath before the burning pain tore through his body and he slammed back against the chair.

Vaguely he heard Will scream at the concussion of sound, distantly he felt his body fall forward against the restraints. Neal tried to raise his head to see that the toddler was unhurt, but he couldn't manage it around the anguish. The straps around his wrists vanished allowing his unresponsive arms to flop loosely from the armrests, one falling into his lap the other hanging off the chair. Hazily he watched the blood flowing over his fingers and pooling in his palm, part of his mind registered that he should be concerned about so much blood, but he couldn't muster the energy. His legs were released next, bare feet thumping to the cement softly, shooting pain through the burnt soles but it didn't matter… it all felt so distant, disconnected.

Abruptly the chest restraint was gone and he crumpled out of the seat…folding carelessly to the concrete floor, limbs slack and wilting, his head connecting solidly with the rough floor and lolling gently to the side, the concrete ice cold beneath his cheek. He tried to will his body to move, to just get up, but he was finished… he had nothing left to give. He lay limp and motionless as the chill flowed up from the floor and seeped into his bones. A quiet voice in his mind cheered… he won… he didn't break… but even that didn't matter much anymore.

"Hamelin, dispose of the trash." Neal heard a voice far away command. Dimly he was aware of the door slamming. Then he felt it… tiny hands on his arm. He choked on the sick horror of that… they left Will in the room with him. The toddler was going to watch him die…

"Gid up" Will pleaded "Eal pease gid up." Sobbing the child wrapped Neal's limp arm around himself "he gib you owies… but you big… pease gid up" He wanted to rise… to reassure the boy to tell him everything would be ok, even if it was a lie, but it was impossible. Neal couldn't move, couldn't find the breath to speak. He managed a feeble squeeze around the trembling little shoulders before his eyes drifted closed and the pain faded.


	8. Chapter 8

When his desk phone rang Peter was reading the file on Dennison for the twelfth time. It was a thick folder with suspected charges spanning three continents… Dennison had been charged four times for insider trading and twice for corporate espionage but there was never quite enough evidence to convict. He was a known associate of several arms dealers and had been spotted talking to suspected terrorists yet he still walked the streets of New York a free man. The agent frowned as he lay the file aside, and lifted the receiver

The voice on the other end of the line was calm and professional. "Agent Burke?"

"That's me." He said wearily

'This is Sargent Franklin at the 75th street precinct. You put a bolo out on David Hamelin and his 07dark green Lexus… license number 745 Charlie, beta, Zulu?"

"I did."

"An officer spotted the vehicle headed west on 79th at Riverside Blvd… the driver matched the description of Hamelin."

"That's excellent. Can your officer keep eyes on the vehicle?"

"He is doing that agent Burke"

"Tell him to stay back and wait for back up, these men are armed and extremely dangerous."

"Understood"

"If your people approach before I arrive, we believe they have one of ours as a prisoner. His safety is of the utmost importance to us."

"Understood, we will be aware of potential prisoners."

"Thank you." The agent was on his way out the door before the phone was settled in the cradle. "Everyone move!" he called as he rushed through the bullpen "PD has a lead"

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He was aware of Will crying beside him, of the little boy's tiny frame pressed tight against his chest causing horrific pain, but he could not find the breath to cry out. He felt movement around him and part of his disconnected mind registered the darkness, the stuffy air he struggled to draw into failing lungs and the sounds of traffic. Neal tried to move… to sit up and comfort the terrified child but his body didn't respond. Rocking limply in the confined space, his head rolling loosely with each bump in the road, he fought to peel his eyes open. Several efforts were finally rewarded and he could see Will's blurred outline in the dim light.

"Shhh… 's kay… shhh… be o… kay…" he continued to mumble unintelligible words as soothingly as his heavy tongue would allow. Distantly he wondered how long the toddler had been trying to wake him. The little boy had to be traumatized, but he seemed to calm a bit at the sound of his friend's voice… with tremendous effort the young man shifted his hand to pat the child on the leg, causing pain to shoot through his arm as the burned skin pulled loose from the carpet beneath him. He gasped, fighting to keep his eyes on Will.

The grinding of tires and the sudden decrease in movement tossed the two of them against the front of the trunk. His weak body slammed into the divider and Will struck his chest like a twenty pound hammer and Neal's awareness exploded… shards of bright light and swirling colors amid blinding darkness. Sounds drifted randomly through the screaming tornado in his ears. He knew there was movement and rough hands on his body, but he did not feel them. Sheer agony, pain beyond anything he had ever imagined tore through him… but it was so far away… he glimpsed his arms hanging above him swaying freely with each slight movement of the body under him. His glazed eyes were fascinated by strands of glistening scarlet thread running across his hands and dripping away. His head flopped heavily against the broad back. Breath was gone… there was no air here just like that vault so long ago, his spinning mind concluded, though he felt each heartbeat… a pounding surf in every inch of his frame.

Abruptly the solid form under his body was gone and he fell lifelessly, landing with a dull hollow sound, limbs sprawled carelessly around his body. His head rolled involuntarily against the slick wood, drooping listlessly to the side, his blood damp cheek sticking to the frozen surface. Unfocused eyes indistinctly saw the sky, the river and the dock… and a familiar man holding a small squirming form over the icy water below …

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The drive to the dock was absolutely silent. The agents crowded into the sedan barely dared to breathe under their boss' grim stare. Peter's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly pushing the vehicle to its limits. The destination had unsettled him… the docks, just three blocks upstream from the site Amelia Woodbridge had been pulled from the river. Which meant this was probably… he swallowed roughly, refusing to let himself accept that conclusion. This was not a body dump because until it was proven otherwise Peter would believe his friend was alive. He was not a man who accepted defeat easily, especially when the stakes were two lives.

Officer Manny DeMarco met them beside Hamelin's car. His face was tight and his eyes to grim.

"He pulled a body out of the trunk" the man shook his head "Doesn't bode well for your agent."

"Are you sure he was dead?" Peter was nearly running for the water

"No, I didn't get that close." The young officer fell in step beside him keeping pace. "Dispatch told me to stay back until back up arrived, but Hamelin or whoever he was slung the guy over his shoulder like a wet dishtowel. The guy didn't even twitch. If he's alive, he is in bad shape…" The officer frowned gravely "took him down toward the dock like he owned the place. Maybe he does…" The man hesitated before hurrying on "something you should know… Hamelin… he had a kid with him."

"Little boy, about two, brown hair?"

"That's the one." The man nodded "anyway you should know… the kid… he was definitely alive… fighting and screaming… trying to hold on to the dead guy, you know… big fellow just tucked the little guy under his arm." he looked at Peter sadly "took everything I had not to run in and grab the boy… poor little guy. He was terrified"

"How long ago was this!" the agent snapped

"Two… maybe three minutes ago"

Peter swore softly… if they were too late… He shook the thought away and pushed himself into a full run. Rounding the warehouse at the land end of the pier he saw them. David Hamelin stood at the edge of the wharf extending the tiny struggling form ten feet above the powerful icy current. At his feet lay a motionless body… even from this distance the agent was pretty sure he recognized the still, limp form. He swallowed the lump in his throat and kept running… he could still save the boy, he told himself sharply and maybe...just maybe…

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"I think I'll handle the brat first." The words filtered through the thick haze. "Not like this one is going anywhere…" the man nodded in Neal's direction, nudging his shoulder firmly with a sharp toe. "Dead as a mackerel." He chuckled leaning down a bit, studying the boneless body at his feet thoughtfully "Well if he isn't, he will be in a minute. He's not going to be any trouble anyway…" His foot nudged the young man again, harder this time, causing his drooping body to lurch languidly "You still in there pretty boy?" he grinned coldly as he realized the body he was dumping still had a bit of life left. "You thought you were saving him, didn't you?" the man taunted as he shook the wailing child in his hands "Should have let Franks shoot him… would have been kinder than the swim he's about to take, and there is nothing you can do about it. You don't have the strength left to lift a hand, so you won't be any trouble, will you? " he laughed again turning away and extending the tiny boy over the edge. The words slowly registered in Neal's foggy brain

"NOOOO!" he wanted to scream but nothing came. Desperately Neal forced the panic into his dying limbs and found the strength to surge frantically to his knees, wrapping his leaden arms around the boy as they both pitched forward into the frigid river. Somewhere miles away he heard a familiar voice cry out in despair…

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With a suddenness that took his breath away the body came to life, as Peter watched. Neal threw himself desperately up at the man holding William. Even as Peter silently cheered that his friend was alive, horror wrapped itself around his heart. The slim arms enclosed the tiny child as the young man swayed precariously at the edge of the pier and then slowly tipped forward into the freezing waves.

"NEAL!" He shouted helplessly, pushing himself to run faster. Hamelin swung around to face them, a weapon hesitating to rise and then apparently thinking better of it, he leapt sideways into a speed boat bobbing there and by the time the agents reached the site he was revving the engine and steering the craft away. Peter ignored him, rushing to the brink of the quay and peering into the shadowed water in the vain hope of seeing his friend swimming against the current. Nothing… his heart sank.

"Help…" he barely caught the sound "Pe…ter… help" Brown eyes darted to the metal ladder leading to the filthy river. A slender hand clutching the first visible step, a familiar head leaning against the rungs, a thin arm wrapped around a shivering, coughing child. He couldn't contain the grin

"Hang on Neal I'm coming." the agent called scrambling down the slippery rungs "Don't let go!"

"Wasn't… plan…ning… on it…"The weakness in that voice worried him but right now all that mattered was getting both of them out of the frigid dirty water.

"Good… its ok… you're going to be ok…" his voice trailed off as Neal's head rolled loosely back on his shoulders, revealing his battered face.

"Take …Will…" the swollen blue lips muttered, barely audible, but the desperation rang though loud and clear. Peter nodded, studying the younger man… Neal wasn't shivering. He should be shivering… the agent was shaking violently with only his feet in the black slushy water, He could hear the boy's teeth chattering from here, but Neal was not shivering. The boy was sliding through Neal's meager clasp, clinging to his slumped, slippery shoulders. Two sets of blue eyes looked up at Peter with frantic hope and fear.

Quickly the older man grabbed the child from his friend's lax grasp. "Hang on Neal… don't let go of this." he instructed pointing to the grey fingers gripping the rung feebly as he turned, climbing up three steps to pass the trembling, sobbing toddler up to Jones' waiting arms.

"Peter!" the younger agent whispered frantically his eyes locked on something behind his boss as he took the child. "Neal!" Peter thought, spinning back to grasp his friend's hand…

Neal was gone. A few bubbles marked the spot where the slender body vanished beneath the murky waves.


	9. Chapter 9

Watching horrified as their consultant slid under the oily surface of the river, Jones gasped his supervisor's name, even as he gripped the tiny flailing body and pulled the toddler into his chest. Climbing the ladder with the small sobbing form tucked against his ribs, he tried to ignore the soft splash that told him Peter when dove from the ladder. As soon as he was standing firmly on the dock, wrapping the emergency blanket around the child, he risked a look back at the water, hoping to see his boss emerge with the young man he pursued, but the surface remained smooth as glass while agonizing seconds drifted past. "Come on… Come on" he heard Diana mutter as they waited. His mind echoed her sentiment… it was taking too long. The soft slap of gentle waves against the ice covered bank seemed to echo in the tense quiet.

When Peter popped up, gasping, the first time several yards down river the younger agent fought back the temptation to jump in and join the search, only a glance at the nearly sleeping boy in his arms stopped him as he remembered he had something important to take care of too. Will's lips were blue and his shivering had all but stopped.

"Hey buddy" the agent nudged the drowsy toddler 'you with me?" a sleepy nod and tiny finger twining into his shirt was his only response. Neal risked his life to ensure the safety of the child, Jones couldn't let him succumb to hypothermia in his arms. "Come on, little man, let's get you warmed up." He touched Diana's shoulder "I'm going to take Will here to the car and blast the heater… I don't think he's hurt but…" she nodded "let me know when Peter finds Caffrey."

"I will." Her tone was grave. Jones flinched inwardly and tried not to think about his friend's pale face looking up at him, eyes dull and desperate as his slim fingers slid weakly across the rung he clung to, losing his grip to the slow but relentless current. He tried not to picture the bruises and grey lips… and the blood that slipped across them as the young man drew a last shaky breath before his eyes rolled back and his head dropped into the waves. Like the river swallowed him whole, he had vanished instantly.

The walk back to the car took too long and his phone didn't light up with a text from Diana. To long… it was taking too long… He slumped into the front seat and started the engine. Slowly the heater began to take the edge off the chill. The little body in his lap began to tremble before his phone beeped.

He glanced at it nervously " ** _Peter got him…_** " lit up the screen followed by " ** _it doesn't look good_** ". A quick look at the clock and Jones swallowed hard… at least they saved the boy…

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Too late…

He knew it was too late… that the young man had been underwater to long, but he resurfaced quickly gasping for breath then dove back under, hands searching blindly in the dirty water. He had lost track of how many times he had surfaced but it didn't matter, he couldn't stop.

Slipping into the river felt like diving into a pile of needles at first but now his body was growing numb to the cold. The violent shivering that had impeded Peter's swimming fading away to almost nothing now. He reached forward again… his fingers brushed something soft and willowy, probably sea weed, the agent thought but he swept his hand through the area again. This time his trembling digits touched flesh…the cold skin of a cheek rough with stubble. Sliding his hand down the neck and shoulder he grabbed the pliable arm and pulled rapidly upward.

Breaking though into the sunlight, he drew a much needed breath as he wrapped one arm around his friend's chest, flinching at the way he had to prop Neal's head against his shoulder, the way it rolled to easily against his collar bone when he swam. Though water flowed between blue lips when the older man constricted his grip, Neal didn't gasp, didn't choke, did not react at all… simply lay against his friend like a threadbare rag doll. His icy skin the sickening faded grey-blue of a corpse. Too late… Peter pushed the thought away. He was not one to surrender without a fight and neither was Neal, this isn't over yet, he told himself fiercely, pulling for the bank desperately.

The swim back to the shore took an eternity. He could feel his friend's misshapen ribcage though the skin and he tried to hold him gently, afraid of causing more pain, but there wasn't the slightest flinch from the loose body even when the agent was forced to grip him tighter to swim against the current.

Reaching for the hands that stretched to pull them up caused Neal's head to loll forward, dipping his face once more into the water. Peter jerked back, adjusting the drooping, motionless body in his arms and pushing him into the waiting arms of four worried agents. Pulled from the lazy current by a friendly grasp and rapidly bundled into a silvery emergency blanket, he risked a look at the young man.

Neal lay quietly against the ice slick wood, his knees bent oddly to the right. His right arm lay beside his hip, palm up, fingers relaxed flat against the planks. He was absolutely still… his chest sunken and motionless. Someone was spreading a reflective blanket over his legs and stomach. A young agent Peter vaguely remembered as Davis and the officer… De Marco were huddled over his slack, unresponsive form, trying to resuscitate him.

The officer lay a plastic mask over his face and breathed into it, two quick breaths…up down, up down…still, so still.

Davis began pressing rapidly in the center of his breast… no pulse, Peter registered somberly. The young man did not respond, except for the water that trickled quietly between his colorless lips, spilling onto the planks. Silence reigned over the dock as the observers held their breath waiting for their friend to react, but his rib cage did not rise on its own… he didn't even twitch.

"Come on Neal" Peter muttered "Come on… fight. You have to fight. Right now, Neal!" Peter ordered under his breath. He wanted to believe … but the statistics rattled in his mind. Four minutes without oxygen meant brain damage… ten minutes equaled brain death. He swallowed unable to tear his eyes away from the frantic efforts to force life into his young friend's body.

"The cold might have bought him some time" Diana's voice was soft as she seemed to read his thoughts. She lay a reassuring hand on her boss' arm.

"Yeah… maybe." he didn't look at her. They were quiet for a long agonizing moment "how long was he in the water?"

"Seven minutes and twenty-seven seconds after he went under." she informed him quietly. Her lips compressed into a thin line. Peter nodded and struggled not to think about the young man's odds of survival… and even lower chances of recovery. Seconds ticked by as the two men continued their efforts with grim determination. He remembered suddenly.

"Where is Will?" he asked worriedly. Peter hadn't seen or heard the toddler since he handed him up to his subordinate. He glanced around fruitlessly. Surely Neal's efforts to save the child hadn't been as futile as his own.

"Jones took him to the cars to warm him up. He didn't look like he was hurt but he was awfully cold."

"Neal will be glad he's ok." The words were out before he thought… his eyes turned back to the frantic efforts to illicit a response from the lithe body… only a heartbeat that's all he asked. The two men still worked steadily.

"Yeah he will…"Diana whispered her voice sounding slightly choked, silence fell heavily between them.

The boneless body suddenly retched, convulsing harshly and the officer rolled Neal's head to the side just as he vomited what appeared to be gallons of red tinted water across the faded planks.

Pushing himself forward on numb legs, Peter knelt beside his friend, afraid to hope, but praying this was sign he was still with them. He clasped the young man's hand tightly, probably too tightly… had his consultant been conscious he would have protested the grip, but his fingers were still… folding loosely around the clutching hand, his lips silent. The retching had stopped leaving his body as lax as before. Peter watched desperately for some sign of awareness… of life, all he found was a faint pulse under his shaking fingers when he slid up to the thin wrist. That was enough…

"We have a heartbeat" Davis confirmed softly a moment later, his fingers at the young man's throat

"That's it Neal" Peter murmured. "Hang in there… you can do this…just keep fighting." he encouraged, the hand in his remained limp and cold as ice. He heard the officer say something about "still not breathing", but he clung to the fact that his friend was fighting, no matter how weakly. Then he saw it… the gaping hole in the thin, bloody undershirt, the matching tear in the center of that motionless chest. The tiny spark of hope he had maintained, drowned in a crushing wave of despair. His fingers involuntarily moved to brush the wound and he swallowed thickly. The lungs under his touch rose and deflated, filling and emptying with a sickening gurgle, as DeMarco forced air into them again and once again. A gunshot wound… Peter thought, right there… just below the sternum, he doesn't have a chance… there is no way it missed his heart.

"D*** it," Davis growled as if on cue "We lost his pulse again" For a long moment the older agent sat frozen, watching the younger man dutifully fold his hands over the wound and press down, again, again, again and again…he watched Neal's face but it was empty, showing no sign of the pain the agent should have been causing, his cheeks were white now rather than ashy blue as the officer and agent circulated oxygen through his system but his eyelids looked thin, almost translucent ...Peter swallowed, his eyes on the blood oozing slowly between Davis' fingers with each compression, the young officer's head obscured the pale face, up and down… still. The sharp crunch of bones snapping as Davis took over again jerked him from his daze.

"We're torturing him…"he thought "trying to force him to stay, but he's gone." he attempted to swallow the lump that closed his throat at the realization. He studied the slim blue fingers in his grasp… rubbing them as if he could make them warm and strong again but it was pointless, an exercise in futility… just like the compressions Davis was still doing. Closing his eyes Peter drew a shaky breath.

"Davis…" His voice cracked… he didn't want to say this but… he lay his hand on the young man's taut shoulder. "Davis stop, just stop, please… he's… he's gone…" He choked on the last word "just let him rest."

Too Late…


	10. Chapter 10

"With all due respect sir," Davis met Peter's eyes firmly while Officer De Marco breathed into the mask covering the pale lips of the consultant "No" the older man glanced down at Neal's expressionless face held steady in the officer's grip, before looking back at the young agent…who was once more compressing the still chest beneath his hands. "I will stop… when the… EMTs …tell me too… not before… just like we…were taught." He panted without looking up again. With that a grim silence fell between them. Peter sighed, vaguely grateful for the young man's determination but devoid of hope. His trembling fingers brushed a damp curl from his friend's lifeless face. He carefully didn't look at the thin slits of blue where grey lids slid back over sunken eyes. Instead he turned his gaze back to the hand in his and waited… waited for the paramedics who would confirm what he already knew, waited for the pronouncement of the end of that brilliant mind and childish energy… waited to grieve for his friend.

The sirens approaching told him it wouldn't be long now… that any lingering hope would be gone in a few moments. He barely noticed when Davis moved aside and strange hands took over… When DeMarco's portable CPR mask was replaced with the paramedic's mask and bag… he finally registered the change when the bloody shirt was cut away and monitor leads were quickly positioned. Dull brown eyes looked up at the thirty-something, blond haired man bending over his friend.

"He's gone isn't he?" The man solemnly shook his head no.

"Core temp is 83.2… can't call it until he's warmed up." With that he turned back to the body under his hands, shifting the motionless form carefully onto the back board, swiftly inserting the IV, and tucking a heated blanket around him. Peter backed away, watching quietly. A moment later the second, EMT a grey-haired man glanced up, disbelief in his eyes.

"We've got a rhythm… 36 per minute… BP 64 over 43…O2's at 57"

The younger paramedic swore softly "he's actually still fighting." He muttered

"No respiration" the older man confirmed before swiftly sliding a slender tube down his throat to replace the mask. "Gag reflex is intact" the senior medic still sounded surprised. Then they were lifting him… transporting him, and Peter moved to follow. Someone stopped him. He tried to shrug the unfamiliar hand off his arm but Diana shot him a glare.

"Let them look you over, boss" she tilted her head toward the team of paramedics who had approached him unnoticed. She quickly patted his shoulder "you need to get warmed up yourself." He nodded numbly, suddenly realizing he had stopped shivering some time ago and his hands had lost feeling. He gestured indistinctly at the retreating gurney.

"Someone should…"

"I'll follow him… and get the team working on the scene… let them take care of you, ok?" if he was reading her tone right it wasn't a suggestion.

"Ok." He sighed

"Don't give up on him yet, boss." Peter nodded…it was probably the onset of hypothermia making reality fuzzy but he found that a tiny part of his mind hadn't quite stopped believing his friend would make it. He quietly let the petite female EMT lead him to the waiting ambulance.

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She sat beside the nervous young agent, picking worriedly at near invisible lint on her skirt. The young man drove silently never taking his eyes off the street to look her way. He hadn't said a word since he told her that her husband was at the hospital and he was supposed to escort her there. The words sat in her mind like a stone, a solid central point to her tumbling, swirling thoughts. How bad was it…? Would Peter be ok? What happened? Did this have something to do with Neal's mysterious brother?

She should have known trouble was coming. He had been so quiet the last few days, the last two nights she only knew he came home at all because of the rumpled covers on his side of the bed, and his clothes in the laundry. Now something had happened and her wonderful husband was hurt. Elizabeth folded and refolded her hands as they pulled into the emergency room parking lot. She brushed self-consciously at her eyes as a few stubborn tears escaped her rapid blinking.

It took all her self-control not to run inside, instead she walked quickly and firmly to the reception desk and looked at the woman sitting there with a determined glint in her eyes.

"I'm looking for Peter Burke" She was proud of the strength of her voice.

"One moment please." The receptionist turned to her computer entering the name then glanced up "I assume you are family…"

"He's my husband."

"Ok… that's fine then." The woman smiled tucking a strand of greying hair behind her ear. "Go on back… I'll buzz you in."

"Is he ok?"

"This says Dr. Lynn is with him now."

"Thank you." It wasn't really an answer, Elizabeth thought as she hurried through the open door and tried not to shutter as it swung shut behind her, but if it was really bad they wouldn't have let her in unless... A few quick steps and she was standing outside the tiny room. Inside she saw her husband propped up against the pillows, wrapped in several blankets, an IV in one hand and a cup of something steaming in the other. The doctor stepped out the door, at that moment.

"Is he going to be ok?" she asked nervously

"It appears that way." He smiled at her encouragingly. "I understand you are his wife?"

"I am. Are you sure? What happened?"

"I'm not sure exactly what happened, but apparently Agent Burke took a dip in the Hudson this afternoon."

"What?!" she couldn't control the squeak that cracked her voice with disbelief. "Why would he do that… its 24 degrees out there?"

"I don't know… he's not inclined to talk about it, whatever happened. His body temperature was 92 when he arrived, which is substantially hypothermic, but he is up to 96 now and coming up at an acceptable rate. I would like to keep him for observation twenty four hours after we get his temperature back to normal but he is doing well. I don't expect any serious complications" The relief sweeping through her was a tangible thing.

"Thank you." she breathed

"You are welcome. Make sure he rests… he seems determined to leave now that he is feeling a little better."

"I will."

Elizabeth fixed a smile on her face and stepped into the small room.

"Hey hon… "She began nervously "How are you feeling?" he looked up at her and she froze. Tears… there were tears in her strong husband's eyes. "Hey honey… its ok… everything is ok." He shook his head wordlessly "Dr. Lynn says you are going to be just fine… though it was pretty close… if you had been out there much longer…" she plowed ahead uncertain what he needed to hear "What were you doing in the river in this weather… Don't tell me, I know …it had something to do with Neal. Right?" she teased gently hoping for a smile, to her surprise Peter dropped his face into his trembling hands.

"I tried to save him." he mumbled

"I know you did…I know how hard you tried to save him" she wasn't sure where this conversation was going but Elizabeth was suddenly sure she wouldn't like any of the possible destinations, Peter's expression told her whatever it was it was worse than anything the young man had ever done. Had Neal pushed her husband into the river trying to escape? No, she didn't believe Neal would do that… had his brother attacked Peter? Had Neal gone along with him? "Honey what happened?" She asked gently, wrapping her arms around his shivering frame."

"They won't tell me anything… they just keep telling me to rest." He looked up at her then… visibly trying to calm himself, brushing impatiently at his cheeks trying to contain the tears in his eyes. "I just want to know if he…" his shoulders raised in a despairing shrug. He looked at her with a sad smile "he didn't have much of a chance… if he had any at all." Her blood ran cold at those words, as brown eyes dropped to his lap sadly. Not betrayal then…

"Peter, what were you trying to save him from? Was Neal in the water?" She nearly choked on the words but she needed to know.

"G** Elle I tried to… but I was too late…" He sighed deeply "I know the facts… I know he's gone… but hope is a stubborn thing" he swallowed hard then "I wish someone would just tell me…"

"You think he's…" the words died in her throat at her husband's grave nod, his tears escaping.

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Shifting in the uncomfortable chair Diana studiously kept her eyes on her phone.

When asking for a friend at an Emergency Room reception desk it should not be a relief to be directed to the surgical waiting area, she reflected, but they don't operate on dead men… so that was something… hopefully.

She shifted again and glanced at the clock… Four pm… three hours… it felt longer. Distracting herself with online books and spider solitaire on her phone only went so far. She recrossed her legs and glanced around the room. An elderly woman sat reading a book, her expression calm… a young man bounced his knee anxiously glancing from the silent TV to the clock, worry in his eyes… a thirty something woman with two young children met her eyes briefly with a small nervous smile. Diana returned the expression before she dropped her eyes again.

She checked her e-mail for the twelfth time, frowning when she saw a new one from her dad's friend. She sighed, fighting a brief battle with herself… but it might be information on the intended recipient of the accursed memory card and getting that little thing into the right hands was tremendously important… in the wrong hands… she shuttered to think what would happen if it fell into unfriendly hands.

Michael Scott, it seemed, did not exist…or rather Michael Scott was an alias for Kevin Grant… who was currently out of the country at an undisclosed location, undercover… for the CIA. Her lips twitched, of course he was, where else would he be… as if this didn't read enough like a bad spy novel. Her return e-mail said as much in rather undiplomatic terms for an ambassador's daughter. She suggested her contact tell Mr. Grant to come and collect the card before she found him and placed it somewhere it was unlikely to be retrieved… by anyone. She waited some more. Ten minutes later she sent an apologetic message to her father's long-time friend.

She started when her phone rang. Shaking her head at her reaction she smirked, it was amazing… Caffrey could still cause her so much stress without even being in the room… or conscious. She answered the phone calmly

"Berrigan"

"Diana?" Elizabeth's voice sounded tense. "Peter is supposed to be resting but…"

"He's being uncooperative." of course he couldn't rest, as agitated as she was, the young woman knew her boss was exponentially more.

"He wants to know about Neal." She sighed

"I don't know anything, unfortunately. They haven't said much."

"Diana, is he… alive" the other woman's voice cracked "Peter seems to think he's…not."

"I hope so… he was when he arrived apparently, and no one has told me otherwise."

"Well that's something"

"Yeah, I suppose." She pushed the picture of the young man lying quietly on the dock out of her mind. "He's not one to give in easily. If anyone can survive…he would be the one."

"And that is exactly what I will tell my husband."

"You can tell him they took him to surgery too."

"Thanks Diana."

"For the boss… anytime." The call disconnected and she returned to silent waiting…she could see what she could find out about Kevin Grant prior to his current career…

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2:12am

He was supposed to be resting…. He should be resting, he was exhausted, he wanted to be resting, but instead he was creeping along a bright corridor to room 342. Diana updated him four hours ago when Neal came out of surgery… declaring in weary triumph that he was still hanging on, but Peter couldn't quite believe that until he saw the young man for himself. Slipping past the critical care nurses was disturbingly easy and the room wasn't hard to find. Peter took a deep breath and opened the door silently, moving softly as if he might wake the occupant.

Near silence reigned in the dim hospital room. The overhead lights were extinguished, leaving only the monitors and small blinking lights to illuminate the scene before him. A single bed, elevated slightly… a plastic piece taped in place over thin pale lips securing the tube that disappeared between them, the bare chest rising and falling unnaturally. Slim arms wrapped in gauze to the elbow, the thick tube protruding from the bandage wrapped ribs. Heating pads tucked around the pale body, under his neck and shoulders, across his stomach, to bring his temperature back to something closer to normal. IV tubing running to needles in his elbows and the backs of both hands, supplied warm saline, blood and probably several things he couldn't pronounce. He flinched a little at the bruises, and the misshapen cheek bone and eye socket… they hadn't even attempted to repair the facial injuries other than stitching up the jagged cut that ran through his eyebrow. Peter wondered if that meant they didn't expect it to matter…Obviously they didn't know Neal… he wouldn't be caught dead… Peter gulped at the thought.

Sinking into the bedside chair wearily he stretched out his hand to pat his friend's arm but withdrew without touching him. He tried to think of something to say…

"D*** you're a mess, Neal. They really did a number on you." He finally managed "I should have realized when we found Amelia that you would be the next target… I'm sure you will torment me about missing that, as soon as you get better…" he carefully took his friend's hand then, giving a gentle squeeze "And I'll let you get away with it too…" he could see in his mind's the look he would have gotten if Neal had been awake "within reason" he added just in case the younger man was registering any of this, "if you just… We'll get you out of this, kid… I need you to believe that." he leaned back against the chair and waited… the soft hiss of the machine breathing for his friend seemed unnaturally loud in the dark room. Something beeped rapidly for a few seconds then fell silent. An IV pump thrummed and the blood pressure cuff hummed to life briefly, releasing with a quiet whoosh, the readings appearing on the glowing screen…the quiet sounds were reassuring in their way…proof of life, Peter thought, as exhaustion began to get the better of him, leaning his head against the bed side table the older man slowly drifted off.

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Down the hall a child cried, the walls were painted with butterflies and farm animals, the nurses voices were soft and entirely too cheerful, Jones thought, the pediatric ward was so far outside his comfort zone, he was even sure he knew the way back, but he couldn't leave. He stood up and stretched, glancing at the little boy in the crib. The child shifted in his sleep and whimpered a bit. He smiled, the toddler would be ok…physically at least. Emotionally…? Who knew? He had no one now… nowhere to go, the baby was alone in the world. The man sighed, no reason the child had to know that just yet.

The little guy suddenly screamed, throwing his head from side to side!

"MOOOMMMYYY!" he wailed, bolting upright. The agent froze for one second then he moved forward, caressing the dark curls.

'I'm not mommy little man, but you're safe… it's ok." Big blue eyes blinked, trying to focus through the haze of sleep.

"Eal?" the child asked hopefully. Jones groaned to himself.

"Sorry buddy. Not Neal either." The toddler looked at him with stark terror. "You are safe. Neal is my friend. You remember me from earlier, right?" Will looked him over for a long moment before he nodded, but the fear did not fade. Jones picked him up and carried him to the rocking chair in the corner… he had no idea what he was doing ,but he saw the nurse rock the boy to sleep earlier. Will snugged against his chest with little protest. The soft sway of the chair seemed to sooth his fears a bit…

"gibbed Eal owies…" the baby mumbled into the agent's shirt. Jones tensed, his stomach twisting… afraid to ask what the boy saw.

"I know buddy… they hurt him didn't they?" the little head bobbed in agreement.

"da man had a gun… like my mommy, and der was a biiigg noise and den Eal bleeded bud… wats of bud… an… an den he goed to seep and not waked up." The child looked up at him then "dey didn't gib him a banbaid so he couldn't get all bedder."Jones read the disbelief and horror at that cruelty in big innocent blue eyes.

"It's ok, the doctors here gave him lots of band aids." he soothed, running his fingers thought the dark curls and gently pushing the little head into his shoulder. His brief visit to his friend's room a couple of hours ago came to mind, if bandages could make him well he would be out of here in a day or two… Jones sighed, too bad it didn't work that way.

"So his owies git bedder?"

"I hope so… I really do." He resumed rocking then… hoping the boy would sleep.

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Unable to sleep she found herself going through old Washington Post articles online…thirty years ago there were several stories about the missing children. The newspaper called them the "stork kidnappings"

"Why am I doing this" Diana asked herself out loud. "This is crazy." She sighed but she pulled up another archived feed. This one talked about the alleged kidnapper and murderer being released on a technicality. It was an editorial written two months after his release… by a Leo Franklin, and he mentioned the name of the arresting officer who failed to properly Mirandize the accused man. Diana frowned… something sounded familiar about that name.

Closing the feed she sighed, she really should leave it alone… it was not her case and she felt a little guilty digging into a friend's family tragedy without his consent.

Shaking her head she typed in Kevin Grant instead and ran a search… who knows maybe she would pull up something.

A heavy knock on her door made her jump. Reaching for her weapon, the agent glanced at the clock… 3:14 am.


	11. Chapter 11

She pressed against the wall, weapon at the ready as she cracked open the door as far as the chain would allow.

"Can I help you?" Diana asked the man standing in the corridor. He was tall, 6'4" or 5" at least and solidly built… his bulk appeared slim on his long frame. His skin was a shade darker than her own, lined slightly around the eyes and his hair bearing just a hint of grey at the temples. He appeared calm, his expression polite, but there was a tension in his posture that suggested not only tremendous strength but remarkable speed and agility as well. She had a feeling he was one of the very few men she had ever met who could disarm her before she got a shot off. His dark brown eyes met hers with a cool unruffled gaze.

"Diana Berrigan?" He asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

"Who's asking?" she responded, her voice calm though her heart thudded wildly. He smiled as if he could hear the organ pumping wildly.

"Who I am is not important Miss Berrigan…"

"It is to me, when you come knocking on my door at three o'clock in the morning." He lay a hand flat against the door easily preventing her from closing it in his face.

"You can call me Donavan. May I come in, please?" At her disbelieving glare he added "Miss Berrigan if I intended to harm you I would not have knocked." He moved as though to push the door open.

"Don't move." she warned darkly and twitched the hand gun into his view. "You think I'm dumb enough to let a strange man into my home in the middle of the night?" she was regaining some of her equilibrium. "You come one inch through that door and I will put a bullet in you before you can open your mouth." He smiled, cool… unconcerned, like a father amused by his toddler's threats. It was disconcerting, she thought. He did not however move forward and she considered that a win.

"Ok…" the man nodded reluctantly "We'll do it your way." She heard the unspoken "for now" that hung in the air. "I understand you have been asking questions regarding Michael Scott."

"Maybe…"

"Why? What is your association with Scott?"

"I don't have one."

"I'm sure there is a reason for your…questions." When she didn't answer he suddenly sighed "Michael works under my supervision Miss Berrigan… his safety is my responsibility. He is excellent at what he does and I cannot allow that to be compromised." He pressed more firmly on the door "So I will ask again, what is your association with the young man?" for a strange moment she could picture Peter in those eyes, could see him standing there ready to go to bat for his team, a sterner… harder Peter certainly, but the carefully controlled concern reflected in the man's eyes eased some of the tension from her shoulders.

'I don't have anything to do with Mr. Scott…I'm sure you are aware I am FBI, a co-worker of mine was mistaken for Scott…" she hesitated still unsure how much to tell this man. "He was given something intended for your man…" she waited for a reaction but the man's cool gaze remained unmoved.

"I see… and this co-worker, he still has the item in question?"

"No" she swallowed quickly "We pulled him out of the Hudson yesterday afternoon." The tremor in her voice was real. She drew a slow steadying breath, allowing Donavan to draw the obvious conclusion.

"I see …that is regretful." His gaze might have held a flicker of sympathy "and the item?"

"Is safe." She straightened her shoulders with resolve… in the badly written spy novel that had become their life she didn't know who to trust… and men that arrived unannounced at three am were not good prospects. "Mr. Donavan… the person who gave my friend the item is dead… she entrusted it to a man she believed was Michael Scott… I will give it Mr. Scott as soon as he is available, no one else." She held her breath waiting for him to force his way in… to pull a weapon and start shooting. For a long moment nothing happened.

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"It's secured." She said confidently

"Understood." He seemed to hesitate for the first time. "I am sorry about your friend…I really am." the man said softly before he turned and strode away…

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A soft click brought him back to awareness as the door swung open. The lights came up and Peter's eyes met the gentle grey eyes of tall man with salt and peppered hair in a white lab coat. He seemed to be studying the agent as well…taking in the flannel pajamas and the hospital bracelet not quite hidden by his sleeve.

"Good morning." The doctor smiled at him. "How is he doing this morning?" Leaning forward he pressed his stethoscope against the battered chest, listening intently, a frown playing across his somber face.

"You tell me…" he glanced at his friend, the young man lay exactly as he had before the agent went to sleep, silent and far to still. "I know it's not good but…" he looked worriedly at the grave eyes that remained intent on Neal.

"Good is relative…" The doctor said absently as he moved confidently around the bed, checking catheters and incisions, "Mr.…?" his gaze flicked to the agent, clearly waiting for a name.

"Burke… Peter Burke" he sighed "I know you can't tell me much but… I just need to know…"

"Melvin Wilson" he extended a hand offering a firm shake "Under less grave circumstances I would tell you he was in bad shape. In his case… he is doing quite good, considering..."

"I guess…" the agent shifted to look at his friend again.

"Burke… Burke" the doctor muttered flipping through the chart in his hands. "Ahh there you are." He smiled again. "Since you are listed as a medical contact, what would you like to know?" Peter looked up at that information with a small smile of surprise.

"Does he have a chance?" Peter asked the most pressing question first. He glanced at the bed again, not sure he really wanted to know.

"He's alive, Peter… can I call you Peter?" he didn't wait for the nod before he continued "He's alive and at this point, given the situation as I understand it, that is nothing short of miraculous."

"I know that." he forced the words out quickly, afraid of the answer "But is he really?" he gestured to the equipment surrounding his friend "he was in the water so long and he… it took so much time to revive him… he trailed off and tried again "Is there anything left… or is he…?"

"I can't assure you there is no brain damage but…I can tell you he was showing signs of responsiveness to external stimuli while he was in recovery last night."

"He was? He's so… still."

"Well yes. While it is a good sign he was beginning to respond, we… the rest of the surgical team and I felt it best to sedate him at this point… his injuries are… substantial. He does not need any additional stress."

"I can see that." He drew in a breath "so he was responding…?"

"He was not awake of course," The older man qualified "but he was startling when moved, reacting to pain, soothing at gentle touch and soft words… all very encouraging that he is still with us"

Knowing the young man was really still fighting brought to mind other questions, Peter really studied his friend for the first time. "His arms…"Peter hated to admit that in the chaos yesterday he hadn't even noticed injuries on his arms.

"Sustained second and third degree burns as did the soles of his feet and his ankles, the main concern there is infection, of course, particularly after his dip in the river. He suffered nine rib fractures affecting five ribs, his right lung was punctured…bleeding heavily into his chest cavity and partially collapsing both lungs."

"Nine?" Peter blinked, nearly frozen in horror at the thought of the young man trying to save Will with nine rib fractures and a punctured lung. The doctor nodded gravely.

"He also has multiple facial fractures, a broken clavicle. The three fractures to his sternum as well as three separated ribs… are most likely the result of the efforts to revive him." met with Peter's wide eyed silence the doctor continued "There is still residual fluid in his lungs… I hesitate to call it water… considering the source. His body temperature on arrival was below 85 but we have managed to raise it to normal, though due to the severity of the hypothermia he is not yet able to maintain his own temperature …"

"That's why the heating pads are still there?"

"Yes" the older man sighed looking between the agent and the young man in the bed "The gunshot wound is very troubling… high caliber weapon and it was close enough to leave burns on his skin…it caused severe bleeding of course, fortunately the angle was downward allowing the bullet to miss his heart by a tiny margin, damaging only the outer membrane around the organ… it tore through his diaphragm… the muscle wall separating the chest and abdominal cavities…instrumental in breathing." He took a breath slowly "Your friend's respiratory system has taken a tremendous beating…" Peter nodded wordlessly trying frantically to keep up with the growing list of damage "the bullet also partially severed his esophagus, allowing stomach acid and river water to leak into his abdominal cavity… It finally lodged in his spine… fracturing two vertebra."

"You mean he's paralyzed?" The agent found his voice as a new horror flooded his mind, thinking of the way he handled Neal as he swam to shore, of agents awkwardly lifting him from the river, more concerned with getting him out of the water than spinal injuries. The doctor shrugged and shook his head gravely

"I don't know…the spinal cord was not severed, but the swelling and heat… and the broken bones causing pressure… it could add up to substantial damage to the nerves… only time will tell…"

"Does that mean he has time?" he didn't dare hope until he heard the words

"The next few days will be extremely critical… the odds of a patient surviving after a cardiac arrest are not good… seventy percent die within the first twenty four hours, the number goes up to ninety percent by the end of seventy two hours…"

"I know, I remember reading something like that." he lay his hand on the young man's head gently…

"When we also consider the brutal beating he endured, the serious burns, the gunshot wound and the high risk of infection from several sources…I'll be honest, his chances aren't good"

"So…" Peter began struggling to keep his voice under control "you are what… making him comfortable?"

"His chances may be slim, son, but we haven't given up on him. As long as there is life there is hope. We will continue to do everything we can for him."

"I appreciate that."

"The good news is he is young and was healthy before this ordeal started… he has almost eighteen hours of the first twenty four down and so far he is doing as well as we could hope." The doctor smiled encouragingly "and he's putting up a heck of a fight."

When the doctor left a few minutes later Peter nervously lifted the cool hand before him.

"He's right you know…" he told the silent man "you're almost through the hardest part." He chuckled bitterly "of course it would be just like you to defy the odds the first few days and then a week from now…"he swallowed the rest of the sentence. With a sigh he let himself drop back into the chair. His thoughts relentlessly returned to the previous afternoon… to the despair… the absolute certainty his friend was no longer in that shattered body. Watching the slow, even, mechanical breathing and the flashing numbers on the monitor screen he still wasn't entirely sure he was wrong. His thoughts drifted lazily… still weary, he slumped half asleep against the bedside table and let them go, hoping for something about this mess to make sense.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts… and Elizabeth slipped into the room, a reproachful look in her eye as she spotted her husband.

"You are supposed to be resting." Worry tinted her blue eyes "I came in this morning and they told me you disappeared over night."

"Hon …I'm sorry," he sighed "I didn't mean to worry you."

She smiled gently "I thought I would probably find you here."

"I probably should have waited but…"

"You were making sure he didn't run." She smiled softly, teasing him. Peter didn't even attempt to smile. She followed his solemn gaze to the bed.

"No, I wanted to…" he trailed off when she gasped softly, staring at the young man in shock. Rising on legs that felt like putty he gently took her hand… slid his arm around her waist. "The doctor says he's doing as well as can be expected." He said softly.

"He looks terrible." Peter didn't disagree…

"He looks much better than yesterday"

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"The little guy is livelier today," Jones thought ruefully watching the nurse trying to convince the toddler to eat the bland oatmeal. The little boy blew a raspberry just as the spoon reached his lips sending the lumpy cereal all over the pretty woman. The agent hid his snicker when she shot him a reproving look. The child sat on the edge of the bed kicking his feet and squirming. A pout firmly in place on his small features, the toddler made a grab for the spoon.

"No, no buddy" the woman instructed with a big smile "I'll handle the spoon. Open wide"

"Can do it." the child insisted petulantly shaking his head.

"I'm sure you could" the nurse didn't look like she believed him at all." But I want you to eat good for me, ok." The bottom lip edged out farther in stubborn refusal.

"Un-uh" Jones grinned openly despite the woman's glare

"Come on… just one bite." The girl pleaded.

"NO!"

She tried to push a bite into his mouth when he yelled. The child clamped his lips shut with a look that reminded Jones so much of Neal it was disturbing.

"Just let me feed you Billy…please"

"Not Billy! I do it!" the boy grabbed for the spoon again. Then looking at the door his eyes brightened "Wizbet!" he extended his arms for the familiar figure. Jones nodded a greeting to his boss's wife.

"Hi Will, how are you."

"She not let me do it." the little boy pouted. "I'm big boy"

"I know you are Will." She smiled at the child.

"Are you his mother? He is refusing to eat." The nurse reported her tone annoyed and accusing.

"Lindsey," reading the name tag, Elizabeth smiled at the younger woman "Why don't I give it a shot… see if I can get Will to eat something." The nurse sighed handing over the spoon

"Good luck." She muttered as she left the room. "He needs to eat at least half of the oatmeal."

"Come on sweetie," Elizabeth sat down in the chair the young woman vacated "I know you are hungry."

"I can do it?" he reached for the utensil. With a soft smile the woman handed it over. A moment later, the small boy happily shoveling food into his mouth, she glanced at Jones.

"Good morning." she greeted him "You look exhausted. Have you been here all night?"

"After everything he's been through, I didn't think little man should be alone." He hesitated "Peter doing alright?"

"He snuck out of his room in the middle of the night to check on Neal." She smiled sadly "so I'd say he's back to his normal self." Jones chuckled a bit stiffly.

"Caffrey still… with us… this morning?" Jones ask quietly, her face tensed but she nodded

"Holding his own for now, I think. The doctor spoke to Peter… I got the feeling my husband isn't telling me all he said." Her eyes drifted back to Will. The toddler was watching them intently the cereal bowl nearly empty "Sweetie do you want to eat your oranges?" he nodded enthusiastically. She absently peeled back the plastic wrap on the bowl and opened his milk. Elizabeth wore a worried expression when she looked back at the agent. "Jones, what happened? Peter isn't ready to talk about it and I don't know what to do if I don't know what happened."

"It's complicated" he shook his head "It's probably better if you don't know." He held up his hand in a placating gesture. "Elizabeth it's probably better if I don't know, either… This whole thing is a mess and I'm pretty sure Peter would have my head if I brought you into it."

"Probably, but whatever it is nearly got Peter and Neal killed."

"Even more reason for him to want to protect you." He smiled when Will, milk mustache across his lip, crawled off the bed and into Elizabeth's lap. "Peter will tell you when he's ready" She nodded reluctantly running her fingers though dark curls and gently kissing the head that fitted under her chin.

"I don't want to be involved… I just want to know how my husband ended up in the river in twenty-four degree weather."

"He went in after Neal."

"Obviously" she sighed "Why was Neal in the water?" the young agent shook his head.

"He was taken… four days ago…" he drew a breath his thoughts drifting to the image of his friend covered in bandages the night before. Tried not to think of what he had endured in the previous three days. "They were dumping him … and Will." At her soft gasp he hesitated, then continued "he was laying there on the dock. I thought he was dead when we came around the corner. The suspect was holding William over the water. Then Neal…" he shook his head again. "I don't know how he found the strength. He was in bad shape but he saved the little guy… but he went under. Of course Peter went after him."

"Of course he did." Her voice held a trace of exasperation.

"Elizabeth… What did you expect him to do, just let him die? That's not Peter. He takes care of his people and Caffrey didn't do anything to deserve this. Any of this."

"I know" she sighed, her face pensive "I know." After a moment she continued "You really do look beat. Why don't you go get some rest? I'll stay with Will for a while."

As the door closed behind him Jones heard her humming softly to the toddler, her face thoughtful.


	12. Chapter 12

She found herself where she had often the past two days, sitting with the toddler in the pediatric ward. As grateful as Elizabeth was that her husband was ok… that he would be released today, since her conversation with Jones yesterday morning she found it hard to look Peter in the eye.

The young agent was right, Peter would have done exactly the same thing for any member of his team, without hesitation, that was just who he was. She wasn't sure that all of them would have returned the favor… Jones, Diana she knew would have and… Neal, she knew in her heart, he would not have hesitated. She also knew that if it had been any of the agents she would not have assumed they were to blame. When she looked into Peter's eyes in the ER and heard his broken voice say "I tried to save him." her first thought would not have been that he had been betrayed.

Sitting here with a napping child in her lap she tried to explain… to justify her reaction. Neal was a con artist her mind supplied, he did what was best for him no matter the consequences to anyone else. His actions had hurt Peter before… Except that wasn't really true and no matter how she argued it, she couldn't quite make it stick. There may have been times her husband and even herself had almost been hurt… had been threatened and endangered but, Neal always came through to make it right, no matter the cost to himself. Since she was being honest , the truth was, she admitted, the young man had lost much more and gained much less than they had from the relationship.

She brushed the baby's hair back from his sweet little face, the picture of peaceful innocence. In her mind the image of the young man downstairs imposed itself over the child's, the left side mangled and bruised, the rest deathly pale and far too peaceful… lifeless really. That thought made her slightly sick… she wasn't an uncaring person. She cared about Neal… she did. She just cared more about Peter. That wasn't wrong. He is her husband after all and anything that put him at risk… "But," her heart whispered accusingly "He's ok now. Why haven't you been back to see Neal since yesterday morning? Why didn't you check on him when he came out of surgery? What if he had died that night?

She didn't have answers … but there was something she could do to prove she cared. She could take care of Will for him. Neal desperately wanted him to stay out of a foster home… she could make sure he did… Peter could help her make sure of that.

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Still dark, he thought as he entered the room, Peter wondered briefly if they ever turned on the lights in the small room, it didn't seem like it unless the doctor was there. The still hand felt warm now when he lifted it from the white sheet, but the fingers still curled lifelessly around his grasp, not returning his gentle squeeze. Peter sighed, Neal seemed as unaware of his presence as he had on the dock. The systolic blood pressure reading and oxygen levels on the monitor both still hung in the low eighties. His temperature read 101.3… a fever probably indicated an infection, the agent hoped fervently it wasn't in Neal's lungs, they couldn't take any more damage. He glanced at the machine still forcing the young man's chest to rise and fall steadily. "At least his heart is holding up" Peter reminded himself, watching the relatively even rhythm play out forty five to fifty beats a minute across the glowing screen.

"I hope you didn't think I forgot about you," he told his friend. "the doctors in this place don't appreciate it when their patients pull disappearing acts, they practically tied me to the bed after the last time I visited … you'll have them all in strait jackets, I'm sure, before you get out of here." he frowned, pushing at the nagging voice in his mind that whispered "if he gets out of here." "They let me go today… so I'll be here now." He drew a slow calming breath running his thumb back and forth over the limp hand in his. "Dr. Wilson says you are a real fighter…he doesn't know you very well." He smiled slightly at that, thinking of the young man's non aggressive nature. " you are definitely not a fighter, but you **_are_** stubborn as h*** and a lot tougher than you look, otherwise…"his thumb absently rubbed the back of the ghostly pale hand again "He says if you make it through the first three days you have about a fifty-fifty shot… you have two days down." The older man swallowed hard "You're almost there."

Sitting in the bedside chair he kept his grasp on the wilting hand but turned his gaze to the dark window. Eight o'clock, past dinner time. He could have gone home. Could have ate with his wife and slept in his own bed tonight, but here he was back in this quiet room having a one sided conversation and hoping desperately his friend knew he wasn't alone.

The door creaked open and a young red head slipped into the room.

"Oh… hello." she smiled, flipping on the small light above the bed "I didn't realize he had a visitor.

"Are you going to kick me out?"

"No… hopefully the contact with someone familiar will encourage him."

"How is he? I noticed the fever…?"

"Just a bit of a bacterial infection… completely expected given his injuries, serious burns in particular are prone to infection. Dr. Wilson is hitting him with some powerful antibiotics. It shouldn't be a major issue." He knew it was an concern... any infection was a major issue as weak as Neal was, but he understood what she really meant… it was no more of an problem than nearly a dozen other issues that currently threatened his life.

"So he's doing better?" that was overly optimistic but he needed something.

"Let's say… holding his own." She smiled at Peter kindly "that's really all anyone can ask of him right now." Her exam was gentle and efficient, her small hands checking tubes and bandages with practiced skill as she talked. "Honestly it is ** _more_** than we expected when he first came in."

"I know." He swallowed roughly as she quickly lifted each eye lid and flashed a small light into the blue eyes underneath.

"You were here the other night, weren't you?" she was adjusting one of the IV pumps now.

"I was… how did you know?"

"I work night shift. That first night we were checking on him every fifteen minutes." The thermometer brushed across his forehead quickly, before she positioned her stethoscope in her ears.

"I never…" he trailed off as she listened intently to his friend's chest… moving the device deftly over the pale skin.

"You were out and you looked exhausted." She grinned as she carefully shifted the young man's position in the bed, lifting his left shoulder and hip in one smooth movement "I tried not to wake you."

"Are you sure it's ok to move him like that? His back…" She quickly placed the stethoscope against his back, a few swift movements as she listened, before she looked up again.

"The surgeon stabilized his spine when he first came in." she assured "and laying in the same position to long can cause other problems." The agent nodded as she continued moving the young man gently.

"Thanks" he returned her smile "for not kicking me out the other night."

"You were sitting here in the middle of the night, holding his hand, still wearing a bracelet yourself. I figured you were close." She slid pillows under his side, one at the shoulder the other at the hips, allowing him to settle partially on his right side, before her hands smoothly turned his head, resting his right cheek on the pillow and lifting his chin, careful not to obstruct the ventilator.

"Depends on the day." Peter forced a tight chuckle, to cover the vaguely sick feeling of watching her position his friend like a broken doll. Neal didn't react to the movement at all, simply folding into the new posture loosely.

"Yeah well… you being here was probably what got him through that first night." She lay his left arm across his abdomen gently, arranging his hand to appear comfortable.

"You think so?" He looked at her doubtfully "He doesn't seem to know I'm here." She pulled the blanket back and shifted his legs, bending the pliable knees slightly, propping them with another pillow.

"All I know is, something kept him hanging on that night, when he didn't really have a chance." She paused clearly unsure how much to say. Seeming to decide, she continued "He was slipping away and we all knew it… then suddenly he started to stabilize. The only thing that changed was you." She moved the drainage tube in his chest to make sure it was clear and drew the thin cover back over his damaged body. With one last kind smile at Peter she left them alone.

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"There you are." She smiled affectionately at her husband "I thought you would come straight here when they released you." He looked up at her quietly "they are releasing Will in the morning hon… what is going to happen to him?"

"I don't know." His shoulders lifted in a small helpless shrug "Child services probably."

"Peter you are telling me you would let that little boy go to a foster home…" she resisted the urge to shake him in her frustration. "Honey…" her voice took on a pleading note "a little boy that very well might be Neal's-." Because he really could be, the DNA test said he was she thought even as Peter cut her off.

"There is no physical way he can be Neal's." he snapped though his voice remained soft.

"I was going to say Neal's nephew." She sighed, his face was instantly apologetic.

"I'm sorry hon, I didn't mean to…"

"I know. You want to be doing something… and there is nothing you can do." He nodded at her words. "How is he?"

"He has a fever… low grade, but it probably means an infection." He managed a weak smile

"He's not doing well then?"

"He's doing as well as possible considering he has a list of life threatening injuries as long as my arm." He met her eyes sadly.

"That bad?" it was little more than a whisper. Now she was sure she didn't want to know.

"Worse." He shook his head "it was just shy of miraculous they got his heart started again."

"His heart stopped?!" she choked

"It took almost ten minutes to revive him…" the pain in Peter's voice tore through her reeling thoughts. Her sweet husband had witnessed that awful procedure… performed on his friend.

"Oh honey… I'm so sorry."

"He's still fighting though…" he chuckled without humor "that's what they all keep telling me." She wrapped her arms around him lovingly, comfortingly.

"That's good, right?

"Neal is terrible in a fight, Elle… he's lost every single one I've ever known him to be in."

"He'll win this one." He has to… she thought, and not just for your sake.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because you think it's impossible… he loves to pull off the impossible." That made her husband smile. "I assume you aren't coming home tonight?" Of course he wasn't, but could she really blame him…? Would it even be a question if it was one of his agents in that bed?

"I thought maybe he could use some back up… for a few days."

"Couldn't hurt." She brushed Peter's cheek tenderly and looked at the man in the bed. A single step brought her to his side and she gently squeezed his hand. Leaning down she whispered "Neal sweetie, don't give up, you need to make it back to us. We need you to come back." She didn't add that it would destroy her husband if he didn't, tried to push it away, this wasn't about Peter, but the thought lingered in her mind. Straightening, she met Peter's eye. "I want to bring Will to our house until Neal is better. Is that possible?"

"I don't know. Hon are you sure that's a good idea? He can be quite a handful"

"He has nowhere else to go. He's two years old, his mom is dead, he witnessed his friend being shot and was thrown in the Hudson… he cannot go to another strange place with more strange people. He's been through enough" tears glistened in her eyes "he's a baby… a sweet innocent baby… and you know how badly Neal wanted… wants to keep him out of the system."

"Ok Elle… I'll see what I can do in the morning."

"Thank you," absently brushing a lock of hair from the younger man's face she smiled lovingly at her husband "honey I know why you want to stay with him… but try to get some rest yourself, ok?" It wasn't uncaring to ask him to take care of himself too… It wasn't.

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She had the distinct impression someone was following her. When she turned around here was no one, not even a shadow. There were no footsteps behind her, she couldn't spot any suspicious cars when she drove. Nothing she could put her finger on but Diana could feel the presence watching her everywhere she went. Whoever was out there was good… really good. That thought made her shiver.

She hoped it wasn't Dennison's people… after all they had tortured Caffrey for almost three days, who knew what he might have told them. He could have told them the names and descriptions of everyone in the office… and if he did, people would start disappearing one by one, until the memory card was returned. They would turn up of course, she thought with a sigh, broken and dead in the river. Was she first on the list of targets?

There was another possibility… She thought of her strange late night visit. Donavon claimed to be Michael Scott's superior, Michael Scott who was really Kevin Grant, who according to her contact was CIA, which made Donavan… the thought of the CIA watching her was not much more comforting than Dennison's men.

Whoever it was, Diana's steps were a bit quicker than usual as she strode into the Federal Building and nodded to Jones when she met him in the lobby.

"Everything ok?" he asked "you look nervous." She hesitated uncertain

"Do you get the feeling someone is following you?"

"No… is someone following you? Dennison?" worry edged his voice.

"I don't know… it's just a feeling."

"If Dennison's people are following you …" he didn't finish the thought

"I know…" she met his eyes "there is another possibility…I had a disturbing visitor the other night."

"What kind of visitor?"

"He said he was Michael Scott's superior."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Not directly… but he was…" she shrugged unsure how to explain the man. "He seemed very… protective."

"Why didn't you tell someone? That's something Peter would want to know."

"He has enough to worry about." She gave him a grim smile.

"I guarantee he doesn't want to lose anyone else." Her head came up at that

"Did we lose…?"

"Not yet… not that I've heard, but…"

"Yeah." She sighed

"But seriously, someone is following you… we should tell him."

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Returning from his discussion with the pediatric ward, fresh coffee in hand, Peter tensed at the open door and the light spilling from his friend's room. Something was wrong. Moving forward on silent feet he approached the door. If there was an emergency they would send him away if he drew attention to himself.

*"Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night."

He smiled. The voice was soft and familiar, and horribly sad. The little guy had finally came out of hiding to check on Neal. He stood quietly in the door way, watching Haversham clutch the young man's hand almost convulsively, not wanting to interrupt the moment.

"Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

A small sound brought the bespeckled head up and around to meet his eyes.

"Who was it, Peter?" the use of his proper name told him more about how deeply affected the small man was than the tears he pushed his glasses aside to brush away. "Who did this?"

"We think James Dennison gave the order." And at the moment he didn't care what Mozzie did with that information. He would not lose a moment's sleep if Dennison turned up in the river.

"But you haven't picked him up?"

"I need evidence." He sighed "and he's keeping a pretty low profile. I'm not even sure he's still in the city."

"I could find out where he is." The quiet voice turned hard.

"I would appreciate that." Peter sighed and moved into the room to take a seat near the bed. "I have another job for you too… if you are interested."

"Does it have something to do with…" he gestured helplessly to their friend.

"It does. I would be grateful for any information you can find on Kevin Grant."

"And I would grateful if you kept me apprised of Neal's… situation."

"I assume you read his chart."

"Of course… that horrifying litany of torture is forever etched in here." He tapped his temple sadly.

"He'll get through this." The agent tried to sound assured "He's tougher than most people know."

"He better." The small man turned away but Peter still heard the words he tossed quietly over his shoulder. "Or I can't guarantee Dennison's condition when you find him."

)()()()()()()(

 *** part of the poem "Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas**


	13. Chapter 13

Hopefully the coffee would help her stay awake. Three days of waking up three or four times a night was wearing on her and Elizabeth was considering the possibility that she was not cut out to be a mother…. At least not to a seriously traumatized toddler.

It was the same every time. Will woke up screaming for his mommy… when Elizabeth darted into the room to wake him, he always asked for mommy first… she quietly shushed him, her heart breaking each time she had to tell him she was not the woman he so desperately pleaded for. The next name on his lips hurt her heart almost as much. She always scooped him up then, reminding him she was Elizabeth and she was taking care of him until Neal was better. His tiny form snuggled into her after that but he sobbed quietly for several minutes, clinging to her like a life line, asking when Neal would be better, when his mommy was coming back and worse of all, if the bad men were going to take him away again. By the time the little boy finally drifted off she lay him gently back in the guest bed, pulled the warm blanket around him and stumbled back to her bed completely wrung out… only to repeat the process in an hour or two.

She glanced at the little boy quietly scribbling all over a large paper on her coffee table. She was enjoying the peace while it lasted because he would not stay still for long. His picture surprised her … she wasn't sure why she had expected more skill from a child that was in anyway associated with Neal… but for whatever reason she had. She looked at the picture again, two large circles perched on top of thin vertical ovals surrounded by short wavy lines… he was currently adding dots inside the circles… eyes?

"What are you drawing Will, sweetheart?"

"Dat's my mommy…" he pointed to one of the figures "and dat's Eal…"

"I see…" she smiled gently.

"Dey both leffed me…" huge blue eyes looked up at her "Wizbet? Do you think dey're togeder?" the question was so innocent… so sad…

"NO!" the child flinched and Elizabeth sighed. She hadn't meant to snap but… she swallowed hard "No Will they are not together. Neal didn't leave, not really, he'll be back." She silently added I hope. She smiled reassuringly at the little guy and he turned back to his paper.

The news from the hospital hadn't been particularly encouraging. Peter updated her when he came home to shower and change each day. The young man's temperature rose and fell as his fragile body and the antibiotics fought the infection, first in his abdomen and now in his ankle. Even worse he remained unresponsive, though her husband said that might be the sedatives… Peter didn't seem to really believe that. It was obvious that her husband was losing hope that their friend would ever wake up.

Pulling herself to the present she looked at and the little guy's drawing again and abruptly suppressed a gag. Will was scribbling all over both figures with a dark red crayon. He looked up at her with horribly knowing eyes.

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Peter wanted to go after Dennison personally… but a week of medical leave was required by the Bureau after a hospitalization, so he had to leave the pursuit up to his team. They had only managed to hold onto the case because of Dennison's industrial espionage and insider trading, the argument could be made that the violence of this case placed it outside white collar's realm of experience. He couldn't say he disagreed but he wasn't letting this one go. He might not be able to work it himself for a few days but he had made sure it was in the hands of people who cared.

He ran his hand though his hair. Truthfully he was worried… about all of his people. Diana's early morning visitor six days ago had disturbed him. She assured him the man had not seemed intentionally threatening but… now someone might be following her…

To protect his people, he needed to know everything he could find on Kevin Grant, who knowingly or not was at the center of this mess. What he'd found in five days of research, he conceded ruefully, wasn't much, no pictures anywhere…and all of it was outdated. What he did find, however, was telling. Kevin Grant was the only child of Naomi and Jeffrey Grant of Dover, Delaware, both deceased. Born September 2, 1982, he graduated, valedictorian, at 16 years old, completed a duel Bachelors in computer programing and criminal justice at Penn State before he was 20. He participated in the ROTC program while in college. He left the Air Force six years later as a major… there was no record of him since. The man was obviously brilliant and driven to succeed. He wondered briefly what his parents would have thought of his career choice.

Laying his computer aside he stood up and stretched. He needed a break, he was spending entirely too much time sitting in that chair. Dr. Wilson told him so the last time he checked on Neal.

"You can't force him to get better by refusing to leave, he either will or he won't" the older man said with a kind smile and a soft shrug.

"I don't want him to be alone."

"We are passed the seventy two hour mark… that improves his chances dramatically. The fever is low now and I expect it break within the next twenty four hours, go home and rest… I understand you were just released a few days ago yourself." Peter had nodded, promising to go home tonight, but he hadn't specified what time and it **_was_** only nine thirty. He wouldn't rest much at home either, between worry about this mess and the traumatized toddler in his guest room, sleep would be just as elusive there as it was here.

"I would feel a lot better about going home if you would just… give me something." He told his unresponsive friend. He lifted the limp hand for what felt like the thousandth time "open your eyes, squeeze my hand…anything…The doctor said you were responding after surgery… and the nurse said they reduced the sedation yesterday…" Nothing… he sighed. "I need some coffee, Neal, but I'll be back."

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"Suit?" standing at the coffee shop counter the familiar voice startled him.

"Mozzie?" he spotted the small man behind a large book, seated casually at a table "I assume you have something."

"You first." The man shot him a withering look "You promised to keep me updated."

"And I will."

"I haven't heard from you in more than three days."

"Because nothing has changed," he sighed "He's still hanging on…"

"The infection around his stomach?"

"Clearing up… but now his ankle is… bad. His fever never broke between infections."

"I told him to give you the card and forget about the whole mess."

"He told me… when he gave me the thing. For the record he listened."

"He did?" the agent nodded.

"Do you have anything on Dennison… or Grant?"

"Dennison has left the country… left everything and vanished. I will track him down, if I can. Do you want to know when I find him?"

"I do." The little man nodded grimly.

"Grant though… he's tough… haven't found much about him… other than the public records I'm sure even your inept efforts have turned up."

"I'll take anything you have." He watched Haversham slide him a painfully thin file casually. Most of it was what he already found except… He held up the picture of a boy maybe 16 or 17 years old. The skinny dark haired kid was barely in the frame behind three girls clearly posing for the shot, his eyes might have been blue. "This is from?"

"His senior class' online year book… it's the only shot of him. Suit, the man has been quite thoroughly erased."

"But you'll keep looking?'

"For Neal? Did you really just ask me that?"

Peter chuckled as his order was called. "Thanks"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

He stood over his friend, who knelt beside a still body on the ground, Peter didn't look up, his expression hidden. Two unfamiliar men bent over the man, obviously trying to save him. Neal frowned… the image seemed surreal, fuzzy at the edges somehow. It was an odd sensation. The strange scene became even more peculiar for Neal when one of the men pulled back a bit to reveal his own battered face. For a moment he stood there frozen trying to understand. "I'm dead…" the realization was like cold water in the face. It seemed to take his breath away… a part of his mind smirked at that. "How can it take my breath…I'm dead." The strange man bent over his body again… breathing for him… "They're trying to save me" he thought and the thought was weirdly comforting.

The urge to run away was overwhelming but something held him in place. He watched helplessly as the man he considered his best friend grasped the arm of one of the figures trying to revive him.

"Stop." Peter told the man, his voice even… strange. "Just stop" Horror flooded his mind Peter wanted them to let him die. He turned his back on the scene as everything faded…

He started awake fighting the sensation of falling. His body ached distantly but his mind was grateful for the dim lights and silence of the room, though he couldn't place why. Blue eyes darted around the room thoughtfully, hospital. The memory of the dream swept through his mind but he pushed it aside… it was just a dream, though he really wouldn't be that surprised if Peter did want him dead…he sighed, that wasn't right, but everything felt twisted in his mind… he allowed his eyes to wander around the room… the empty room…

There is was something depressing about waking up in a hospital room alone… even his confused mind registered that. He tried to turn on his side toward the wall… but he couldn't…something tugged at his side… and something twisted in his throat, his arms stung and pulled, his body had no strength, but that wasn't what sent a chill crawling up the back of his neck… no! His head turned… his shoulders flopped ineffectually against the bed, his arms moved weakly, but his legs remained still… unresponsive to the increasingly panicked commands of his mind. Tears filled his eyes, as he tried to contain his fear… He choked on the thing in his throat, increasing his fear to blind terror. "Breathe Neal" he told himself… "You have to calm down and breathe."

The door opened with a soft click, something about the dim lights and silence followed by that small sound increased his panic! Vague memories flared though his jumbled mind, a flickering flame eating at his flesh, a huge mountain of muscle looming over him, bright lights and roaring sound followed by dark and silence and that click. A figure approached his bed and Neal brought his arms up, fighting against the onslaught that he knew was coming. He couldn't bear any more… he couldn't take another round without breaking… and he couldn't break! He had to protect his friends.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other… Peter made his way back into the Intensive Care Unit. He wasn't surprised to find the nurse's station empty, critical care nurses definitely earned their pay, he had discovered the last few days. He began to worry as he approached Neal's room, when a young nurse suddenly darted out of the door, a look of concern on her face. Reaching the station she paged Dr. Wilson, sending chills up Peter's spine.

"Excuse me…" he reached for her arm, pulling back at the last moment. "Is Neal ok?" she gave him one look and continued rushing back to the room. Then she looked again and hesitated.

'You're his friend that's been here, right?" the agent nodded "Maybe you can get through to him then…" When she hurried away Peter was on her heals.

"He's awake?" he couldn't quite believe the words.

The nurse didn't answer, but he didn't need her to. The room was chaos. Two nurses held the young man firmly in the bed by his shoulders, trying not to touch his lower arms as he attempted to lash out, alarms blared from several devices, a third nurse was attempting to inject something into one of the IV lines, but flailing arms made her efforts futile. The women restraining him spoke in soothing tones but their words seemed to flow over the panicked man without penetrating the fog. Wide blue eyes weren't really seeing them, Peter realized. Three steps brought the agent to his friend's side.

"Neal?" Can you hear me? Stop this." His tone was strong… commanding. "You need to calm down… you are hurting yourself." Blue eyes rolled toward his voice… he swallowed hard at the tears swimming there , but he felt his lips pull up in a smile at the dry cheeks, even in a half conscious panic Neal wouldn't let himself cry in front of strangers. "Only you would be worried about looking weak right now" he told his friend quietly… Neal blinked rapidly to contain the tears. Recognition slowly reached his eyes "that's it…" Peter's smile broadened "you with us?"

A tiny nod, his arms relaxing at his sides…

"That's better… it's ok…" one of the nurses soothed. Blue eyes darted to her face and fear edged back into his expression, body tensing under their hands.

"It's ok… she's a nurse." Peter touched the younger man's hair "No one is going to hurt you…do you understand?" another small nod "She's trying to help you, but you have to stop trying to hit her." in an instant horror and shame fill the eyes looking up at him, replacing the blinding fear, Neal was not the kind of man to ever hit a lady and now he looked sick at the thought that he had done just that. "It's ok, I don't think she's going to hold a grudge."

"I'm sorry" his lips formed the words silently around the tube, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. The woman accommodated him with a sympathetic smile.

"It's ok, honey" she said, adjusting the drainage tube in his side, assuring it had not pulled out of position. "You are far from the first patient to panic when they wake up after a serious trauma." She tucked the blanket around his chest very gently but Peter still noticed a slight flinch at the touch. "You are the first to apologize so soon, though" she smiled… "Rest now. Dr. Wilson will be here in a few minutes, Ok?" Neal nodded, eyes already slipping. With one last pat she turned to go.

"Is he ok?" Peter asked

"Dr. Wilson will be able to tell you more but… He seems fairly alert, all things considered"

Settling into the bedside chair, he regarded the younger man wearily it took a moment to realize sleepy blue eyes were studying him as well, a strange sadness in them.

"Everything alright, Neal?" Of course it wasn't, the kid had to be in pain, and the tube down his throat was probably frightening and distinctly unpleasant but that looked seemed to be something else… he watched his friend slowly, carefully form silent words around the ventilator.

"Do… you…want…me… to… die?"

Peter shook his head in shock "Of course not, why would you ask that?!"

Neal smiled drowsily "Bad… dream…" his lips said soundlessly as his eyes closed involuntarily.


	14. Chapter 14

Diana felt guilty digging into the thirty year old mystery, but she was driven to solve it. She wasn't sure why, maybe she wanted to give Neal some closure on the incident. He hadn't remembered until they opened this old wound… and mercy knew he had enough wounds right now… if she could close an emotional one for him… that was assuming of course that he survived. The last she heard he was still holding his own and the doctor was encouraged that he was still hanging on but, that didn't mean he was out of danger. She didn't dare call her boss and ask, knowing that if he wasn't sitting in the young man's room, he needed to be resting. She could have stopped by but after the first night when she sat by his bed and said her goodbyes with a heavier heart than she ever expected to feel for a dying con artist she hadn't been able to make herself go back. Peter would be back at work tomorrow, hopefully he would have good news.

The team was working in shifts around the clock to find the three men directly involved and connect the situation directly to Dennison. Her shift ended four hours ago and she knew she should be sleeping but Leo Franklin had finally returned her call just before she left the office, the man answered her questions concisely. Yes, her remembered writing that article. Yes, he felt justified for calling the officer out the way he did… even though the man was killed by another officer just a little over a month later. Who did he get the information from… he hesitated to reveal his source but if someone was actually investigating the old case then… the officer's name was given to him by a highly reputable private investigator, Mr. Chris Thompson, though he had no idea why Thompson was looking into the case.

As soon as she reached her apartment she looked up Thompson. He was retired, living in a beach house in San Diego but there was a number so she put in the call… it was only eight pm on the west coast after all. The man answered on the third ring.

"Mr. Thompson… this is agent Berrigan of the FBI. I was hoping you could help me out with a case… I understand you investigated some time ago."

"Of course, young lady always happy to help." His voice was smooth… a man used to getting what he wanted, she reflected. "What cold case do they have you digging into?" she could hear his grin through the phone line.

"The Stork Kidnappings." The line went quiet for a long moment. She heard the man draw a slow ragged breath.

"It's been a long time since I looked into that one." He finally said. "What do you want to know… maybe I can still help? But no promises for my memory."

"Ok." She pushed aside the nagging feeling that this was none of her business… "How did you get involved Mr. Thompson? Who hired you?" the man sighed

"There was an officer… his son was one of the babies taken…"

"James Bennett?"

"Yes that was the name…his son was identified as one of the bodies recovered… but he couldn't accept that… wouldn't accept it. His wife on the other hand …"

"What about his wife?"

"It was strange, her reaction. It was like she just rewrote their family… she never grieved, just acted like Nick was never born."

"I see…"

"I don't know how he came up with the money but Bennett kept me working on it for over a year."

"Did you turn up anything?"

"Yeah I did. The prevailing opinion was that the kidnapper was a serial killer but… I found an account he had successfully covered up…there were sizable deposits about two weeks after each child went missing."

"You think someone was paying him to murder babies?" her stomach twisted

"Maybe not to kill them… maybe just to take them." The knowing tone in his voice carried clearly through the line. "I think the babies who died were just… collateral damage, if you will,"

"You passed this information on to the police investigating?"

"I tried… other than Bennett, they weren't overly interested."

"You mean, they refused to follow a lead on missing kids?" she couldn't believe even dirty cops would be that cold.

"They refused to even listen long enough to hear I found a lead."

"D***."

"My thoughts exactly Agent… Berrigan, was it?"

"So you think some of those children might still be out there? Alive?"

"I do actually." He sighed "At least I think it's possible… though finding them now…" she could see the man shrug helplessly in her mind.

"Did you find anything to indicate that the ME might have been mistaken about Nicholas Bennett's identity?"

"I'm sorry… I never did. Bennett kept insisting there had to be something but… there was nothing. That I could find anyway."

"Thank you Mr. Thompson." Diana sighed

"Anytime. You might want to know … that man… he made a deposit into an officer's account… two days after he was arrested… the same officer who arrested him."

"That is interesting…pay off for botching the arrest maybe?"

"Looked that way to me."

"And you told Bennett this?"

"I did. I never expected him to kill the man though… shame about that" regret echoed through the phone.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

When the lead on Rodney Franks finally came in the office seemed to give a collective sigh of relief, Jones thought. It was good to have Peter back in his office today but…the tension rolling off the man only added to the stress everyone had felt for the past week and a half since their consultant went missing. The first question on every lip when their boss walked in this morning was "How's Neal?"

The senior agent had looked around at their concerned looks and announced that the young man was awake and was doing as well as could be expected. Everyone seemed to take a deep breath for the first time since the dock…then the office erupted into a brief cheer. Peter smiled at his team but there was something in his eyes, a stiffness to that smile that seemed …off. Jones and Diana exchanged a look, wondering if they were the only ones who noticed that Peter's expression belied his positive words. Clearly something was still very wrong. Jones spent the morning trying not to think about the damage that could have been done by seven minutes and twenty seven seconds…

Then the lead came in… the surveillance team outside one of Dennison's smaller office buildings recognized Franks. Reporting in, they had been instructed to follow him… he led them back to an apartment complex… most likely his own.

Suiting up Jones tried to squelch the desire but he knew given the chance he wanted a piece of this guy. He had only seen Neal that first night, but the memory was enough to make him shutter… he had been unable to make himself go back after that. The brutality of the damage was overwhelming, and the urge to return the favor for his friend rose in him despite his silent reminders that justice was better than revenge.

Peter pounded the door harshly calling out "FBI OPEN UP!" there was no response except a soft scrabbling sound. The door crashed open under the battering ram and nine agents rushed into the room.

Rodney Franks wore a stunned expression, his hands still trying to open the window, clearly he was not the brains of the operation. It never felt so good to slap cuffs on anyone, Jones thought, but a small part off him wished the man had put up a little fight…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"He might have surrendered peacefully," Peter thought furiously, "but that is all he is going to give us." Franks sat chained to the table, he looked angry protesting that they couldn't hold him… that they had nothing on him. He claimed he knew nothing about the kidnapping and brutal attack. After four hours of watching him playing irritated, innocent citizen Peter had enough. He stepped into the room. He quietly sat down and lay Neal's cracked phone on the table between them.

"Who are you?' the man grinned

"Peter Burke."

"That supposed to mean something to me?" the man sneered mockingly.

"Mr. Franks you can drop the act…"his voice was soft but the steel underneath was razor sharp. "This phone…holds a video file… of you, David Hamelin and Henry Ridgemont assaulting Olivia Dominguez and Neal Caffrey… it recorded your voice discussing the kidnapping of Mr. Caffrey and William Woodbridge." He hesitated, his smile widening like a crocodile about to attack. "And finally Mr. Franks we ran a single finger print from this phone… yours."

Franks knew he was beaten, Peter could see it in his eyes but still he only muttered indistinctly "I'm not telling you nothing…"

"That is you choice" the agent tried not to visibly grind his teeth "But I don't see Mr. Dennison sending you a big shot lawyer to bail you out, Mr. Franks… he's going to let you take the fall for this all alone."

"Of course he is … I'm nobody" the words hung in the air, Franks looked shocked that he let them escape and Peter smiled at him. It wasn't enough for an arrest just yet but they finally had confirmation of Dennison's involvement. Then Franks played his last card.

"He told us where it is, you know," Franks smiled now "the item we wanted … he told us he gave it to his boss, then he gave us his boss's name to save his own skin… you should warn the man we're coming for him next… we will get our item back. We know what he was… they should know he died crying and begging for his life." the words sent a chill down Peter's back. He gave the man a hard look as he rose and turning on his heal he strode out of the room.

"Boss." Diana said softly appearing at his elbow.

"You got that?"

"We did." she lay her hand on his tense arm "Boss he's lying."

"What?"

"About Neal giving them your name"

"Are you sure… They were killing him, anyone would have given in under that kind of treatment…" he couldn't help feeling just a little betrayed even as he justified "I don't blame him if he did… he held out for three days. No one could ask for more." And that was true… but it still stung.

"Franks is lying. If he knew your name… he would have made that conversation personal, and you know it. Franks is hoping you will lead them to his boss. Neal did not give them your name. He protected you… all of us." She was right… of course. He had introduced himself… Franks would have recognized his name if he knew it… he wasn't thinking straight.

"Excuse me." He said softly, swallowing hard

"Tell Caffrey we all send him best wishes…" she smiled "maybe I'll stop by later, now that he's awake."

The older agent nodded "he'd like that… but he's only awake for a few minutes at a time…they still have him pretty well drugged… his lungs took quite a beating, he was still on the vent this morning, though they were talking about taking him off." He closed his eyes… and didn't tell her the rest. He didn't tell her that while the doctors reassured him it was too soon to be sure, he had watched their friend shift and stir for two long days, but never once had he moved his legs.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

He closed his eyes… after another round of exams he was exhausted. He was grateful that Dr. Wilson had removed the breathing tube this morning, but he wished they didn't have to monitor him so closely without it. Breathing was painful but according to the nurse his oxygen levels were holding stable… so far. Her eyes warned what would happen if they didn't so Neal closed his eyes and focused on slow deep breaths to insure he took in plenty of air through the plastic mask that covered the lower half off his face.

Without the ventilator and the drugs they gave him to keep him from fighting the machine his mind felt clearer… clear enough to notice the way the nurse looked away when he asked why his legs wouldn't move, clear enough to remember more of what happened, and to wonder if Will was ok. Maybe the drugs hadn't been a bad thing after all, he reflected as the memory of a man pressing a gun to the toddler's head rose to his mind. He swallowed hard and tried to pull up a memory after that… something to tell him the boy was ok.

He startled slightly, realizing he was dozing. He fought to stay awake… he wanted to avoid the dreams that came with sleep, painful terrifying dreams assaulting him with images that might have been memories or twisted versions of them conjured up by his fertile imagination. He really hoped the image of the small boy lying dead at his feet wasn't real, or the dream of Peter telling the two men to let him die.

The tiny click of the door still made him tense… his body readying to endure another round of agony… he knew in the rational part of his mind it would be a nurse, with an apologetic smile and a thermometer, or maybe June with a concerned look and the book she had been reading to him… the urge to pretend to be sleeping so he didn't have to face another exam crossed his mind but he sighed and forced himself to open his eyes.

Fear spiked through his entire being. The memory swept through his mind in a sickening rush, this man standing on a dock extending a small thrashing body over the water… turning to mock him as Neal lay helpless at his feet. The young man swallowed hard, shrinking as far as he could into the bed. His mind swirled through his options… except there were no options. He couldn't run without moving his legs, he didn't have the strength to fight back, his hand reached for the nurse call but the man sprang forward and shoved it out of his reach.

Neal brought his hands up to grasp the wrists as the man pushed aside the oxygen mask, fighting back desperately knowing what was coming. His weak grip did little to impede the man's movements as he jerked the pillow from behind the young man's head and pressed it with tremendous strength over his face, his elbows resting heavily on the laboring chest. Neal struggled frantically, twisting his head from side to side, nails scratching his attacker's wrists, trying to push him away with all his waning strength. The man's chuckle drove him forward, but he couldn't draw a single breath. Realizing the futility of his efforts, he blindly felt for the call button again.

The world faded as he realized the simple truth… "I'm dying, I'm dying and there is nothing I can do." His hands fell limp from their efforts…the right, beside him on the bed, the left, lying loose across his stomach…far away he felt the limbs throbbing with fresh pain and something wet soaking though the gauze, distantly he heard something beeping loudly. Somewhere in his mind he heard a familiar voice "Davis stop… just stop, please… he's gone…" a shudder ran though his body, Neal wasn't sure if it was lack of oxygen or the words from his dream that caused it.

Suddenly the pressure was gone, the pillow sliding away to the floor. Neal watched vacantly as two men fought. The second man was slim and quick, his hair dark and his shirt untucked Neal noticed through his greying vision… he tried to focus on breathing but something was wrong… his lungs felt weighted, unable to draw in air.

His attacker fled through the window and the second man turned to follow… hesitated, glancing at the bed. With smooth steps he drew into the narrow range of vision that had not faded away and Neal felt his eyes widen despite his panic. The man's expression registered surprise and recognition too… he quickly lay the mask back over Neal's face, and turned to hit the emergency call on the wall. Then he stopped for a moment, his blue eyes a mix of confusion and worry, giving Neal's shoulder a squeeze he spoke quietly.

"Hang in there, help is coming." With that he turned and lunged out the window in pursuit of the attempted murderer. Neal heard voices sweep into the room and hands on his body, someone was calling his name and asking him to look at them but he couldn't see anymore. Just before the darkness that consumed his vision settled over his mind Neal thought… "He really did have my face…"


	15. Chapter 15

"Peter." Dr. Wilson met him in the hall "we were just about to call you." Something in his tone stopped the agent in his tracks.

"What happened?"

"It appears Neal has had a bit of a setback." His words suggested it was a minor inconvenience but his eyes spoke of something much more serious. "As you know we planned to remove the ventilator this morning….?"

"Yes."

"We removed it at about 8:30 am… it appeared to be successful. His respiration and O2 levels remained stable for several hours then suddenly about forty five minutes ago his respiration became very rapid and his oxygen level plummeted. His pulse became erratic and his left lung began to collapse from the strain." Noting the expression on Peter's face the doctor smiled gently "we were able to stabilize him quickly, but obviously he is not ready to breathe on his own." He shook his head "and likely won't be for some time if his lungs are not able to remain inflated under relaxed conditions. In his panic he also tore the bandages away from his arms…took quite a bit of skin too… the skin grafts we talked about will be necessary very soon.."

"I see."

"He's resting now and he seems stable." The grey haired doctor smiled encouragingly

"Thank you." Stepping into the room seemed to take more effort than it had for several days. Lowering himself into the chair, he waited. It was two hours before he raised his head from his book at a small frightened movement, to find blue eyes resting on him, wide and fearful.

"shhh, it's ok… they had to put the tube back in." that was the only reason he could think of for the panic in Neal's expression, but his words didn't seem to sooth the young man. Neal's hand's moved rapidly in gestures Peter's limited knowledge of sign language did not allow him to follow. Leave it to Neal to reveal another language he was fluent in while he was fighting for his life. "Hey… slow down… I don't understand. Just a minute, ok?" a couple of the nurses the last couple of days understood the gestures well enough to follow what Neal was saying… Peter hoped one of them was on duty. He stood to go find them when his friend's hand wrapped around his wrist and held on desperately. There was no strength in the grip but he stopped. The sign the young man's hand made now was one of the few the agent knew

"Please."

"I'm not leaving, I was just going to get someone who can translate. I'll be right back" the hand on his arm released reluctantly but the pleading remained in his friend's expression. "ok…ok, I'll stay." Neal's lips flicked up in a ghost of a smile. He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table. Peter smiled… typing out the message was much more effective communication between the two of them, even if it was clearly harder for Neal. As the younger man typed Peter said softly "I know you must be frustrated with having that tube back in but you have to give your body time to heal…your lung collapsed again without it…"his voice faded at the look Neal gave him, a mix of fear, confusion and disbelief. His hand shook as he handed over the phone.

" **Someone was here. He tried to kill me.** "

"Someone tried to kill you?" he looked at Neal worriedly "Who? When?" the young man took the phone back

" **Don't know his name. One of the men who took me."**

"What happened?"

 **"** **Took the mask off … used the pillow. I couldn't breathe."** Peter understood the feeling. He lay his hand on his friend's hand careful not to touch the bandages around his forearm.

"Why didn't anyone mention an attack? The nurse must have noticed someone suffocating you!" he tried to keep his voice calm but the anger seeped in.

" **Nurse didn't see… there was another man… pulled him away."**

"Someone saved you before the nurses came in? Who? Did you recognize him?" Peter watched the young man nod, his eyes confused.

" **It was me…"** his eyes were already drifting closed so the older man didn't push for more, instead he sat back, trying to wrap his mind around this new information. Someone came here and tried to kill the kid again, unless Neal dreamed the incident… surely someone must have noticed something if he was attacked, right? Was it possible Kevin Grant was in town? Was Ms. Woodbridge trust in him justified or was he a threat in his own right? If he was William's father what did that mean…? That the Medical examiner made a mistake thirty years ago? It was looking more and more probable.

)()()())()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Spending a couple of hours at the park had been a good idea this afternoon, Elizabeth thought. She and Will had been cooped up in the house for days and the little boy was restless. She hadn't gotten any work done all that morning as he found things to climb and chased the poor dog through the living room and kitchen… even upstairs. Catching them both drinking out of the toilet had been the last straw. Taking them both to the park had been an enlightened idea. Will had run nonstop over the playground, tackling the equipment meant for the five to twelve year olds like it was nothing. Satchmo had kept her pacing in circles around the play area so he could keep a doggie eye on his little friend until the boy decided to chase the dog around the grassy field for half an hour. Elizabeth found herself laughing easily for the first time since the young agent knocked on her door eight days ago. Carrying a sleepy toddler and hanging on to a curious retriever on the way home after two hours of constant motion though, was a bit challenging.

Tangling the leash around her legs on the steps nearly sent her to the ground. As she twisted to unwrap her legs she caught a glimpse of movement across the street. She froze.

The figure that vanished into the gathering shadows was familiar…Neal. Will's innocent heartbreaking question from a couple of days ago floated unwelcome through her mind. No. Peter would have called if… It was his first day back at work but he would have been contacted immediately if something… went wrong and he would have called her.

The little boy in her arms shifted. She glanced at him. Her thoughts spinning for a more probable explanation than… she shook that thought away. It occurred to her it could be the mysterious double that started this whole mess. Was he a threat? Had he come looking for Will? What would she do if he tried to take the boy by force.

Of course she could have imagined the resemblance too. In the fading light… it had only been a quick glimpse. Probably just one of the neighborhood teenagers headed home. That was the most likely situation.

Her nerves soothed a bit she quickly unlocked the front door and stepped inside. If she closed and locked the front door a little faster than normal… well her hands were full and William was getting heavy…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Sitting in the chair watching his friend sleep Peter replayed the conversation he just had with Tammy, the first nurse in the room when Neal's condition suddenly deteriorated. Her expression when he asked if she noticed anything unusual had been annoyed.

'The man was barely breathing… his lung was collapsing… he was about two minutes away from cardiac arrest!" She shook her head irritably "I was focused on my patient not on insignificant details…" her look softened suddenly "although it is strange…"

"What is?"

"It's just I didn't think about it until you asked but… someone pushed the emergency button, but there was no one in the room… and now that I'm thinking… it was odd that the pillow was on the floor… about 4 feet from the bed."

"So someone could have attacked him?"

"Maybe…"she shrugged. "I suppose it's possible… it would explain why he went downhill so quickly… he was doing so well just 15 minutes earlier…" the woman shook her head, turning to go.

Peter was on the phone before she was out the door, calling the office, ordering protection on his friend, mentally cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner.

Shifting in his chair he noticed blue eyes watching him questioningly. He smiled and patted the younger man's knee with a smile.

"It's ok… everything is ok" the doubtful look made him sigh. "They aren't going to get in here again, I promise."

Neal had nodded, texting with a tiny smile " **worry too much** " the words on the glowing screen made the older man smile a bit in return.

"Because you never worry at all." He gave the younger man a gentle glare, but he noticed the faintest flicker of fear still lingering in blue eyes belying that argument.

" **Someone has to keep their wits** **and not panic** " The screen responded, before slipping through suddenly relaxed fingers as Neal's eyes closed abruptly… with an effort he pulled them open and fumbled for the device. The agent picked it up and held in front of the young man…then lay it just within reach on the table.

"Rest. Ok? You're safe and someone from our team will be here when you wake up." He received a drowsy nod in response. Silence reigned after that, allowing Peter's questions to rattle wildly in his skull.

His phone rang stridently, jarring Peter out of his thoughts.

"Agent Burke?" Officer DeMarco sounded pleased and puzzled

"DeMarco. How can I help you?"

"David Hamelin was found unconscious on a park bench two blocks from Columbia/ Presbyterian hospital, his hands restrained and lashed to the bench … he was picked up by the department about two hours ago."

"Thank G**" the agent breathed.

"I thought you might like to hear that…" he could feel the young officer smile through the phone then the tone turned serious " after what he did to your man…" there was hesitation in his voice "speaking of your agent… did he… is he…?"

"He's alive… and conscious. He still has a long way to go but." the officer deserved to know that, after working so hard to save him. "I never thanked you for… everything… last week."

"Just doing my job. I'm glad to hear he made it. He going to recover?"

"Hopefully…though someone, probably Hamelin, came after him again today."

"D***" the young officer put Peter's thoughts into that word. "He really attracts trouble doesn't he?"

"You don't know how right you are?"

"Not sure I'd stay with the job if I had his luck… You think he will, after this."

"It's complicated, but yeah I do… if he can." Peter sighed, the officer was quiet a moment. When he spoke again he was all business.

"Hamelin looked like he had been a fight… a heck of a fight, his face and body are bruised, but the doctor who examined him said his lack of consciousness is the result of a powerful tranquilizer in his system."

"That is strange, isn't it?"

"We thought so."

Five minutes later the agent strode into the Emergency Room and looked at the sleeping man. Peter took great pleasure in handcuffing him to the hospital bed. Waiting to speak to the doctor about when he could move Hamelin to a cell he frowned deeply. He couldn't wait to question him … the delay grated on his mind.

At least his friend would be glad to know another one of his attackers was off the streets, even if the circumstances were… odd.


	16. Chapter 16

The call to protect Caffrey's hospital room came as a surprise more than a week after he was found, but there had been no shortage of volunteers. Diana smiled, her boss would be proud of his team when she told him. Arranging the crew into four hours shifts took only a few minutes before she and Jones headed out to take the first stint. Her friend was quiet as they drove, she let him be… focused on her own thoughts.

"You think he's…" Jones broke the silence as the parked. "You know… still Caffrey?"

"Peter said he is awake…"

"Yeah but he was underwater a long time. Awake doesn't equal the same."

"I know." She shrugged helplessly "it was pretty cold though so…"

"Yeah… but still…" it hung there between them…

The two agents exchanged nervous looks as they approached the room, both of them remembering all too clearly the last time they stepped through that door.

As soon as they reached the door Peter brushed passed them with barely a nod of acknowledgement. His expression was an intense mix of bewilderment and fury. Neither agent was inclined to stop him for an explanation, settling instead for sharing a puzzled look of their own.

Diana took a fortifying breath and stepped inside, trying not to think about what Peter seemed to be holding back… tried not to think about seven minutes and twenty seven seconds and the damage that much time without oxygen could do to a human brain. Hypothermia may have warded off some of the damage but how much…? Enough for Caffrey to still be the man she knew? He still looked very much the same as the last time she saw him… pale, lifeless and still. Then his hand pulled at the blanket and he shifted slightly. She stepped farther into the room.

Diana forced a smile as Neal rolled his head toward her, blue eyes struggling to focus, "I heard you were doing better…" she shook her head, wondering if the young man understood her words… what awake actually translated to… "No offense Caffrey but you still look like s***." She was pleasantly surprised when he smiled, eyes sparkling like fireworks at her teasing. She looked at him more closely, the swelling around his eye and cheek was almost gone, revealing the slightly misshapen bone beneath the mottled skin, the bruises on his face were deep purple and blue, but the bluish cast had faded from his lips… though the ventilator was still in place… she tore her eyes away from the tube that disappeared into his mouth, to eyes glassy with whatever drugs they were pumping into him, she was sure there were plenty of them. At least she hoped it was the drugs.

Moving forward she planted herself in the chair beside him. "Peter sent me to make sure you're safe. So here I am. Jones is right outside." His hands moved suddenly, rapidly, fluttering frantically, wincing occasionally as the movement pulled on his forearms… it took several moments to realize what he was doing… Diana smiled in understanding just as the trembling limbs dropped back to his sides with a frustrated look… "You'll have to go a little slower Caffrey… it's been twenty years since Charlie taught me sign language." His face brightened and he repeated the motions at a slower pace.

"Glad to see you." his hands said

"I'm glad to see you awake…we weren't sure…" her voice faltered "Peter was worried."

"But not you?" his awkward attempt at a smile was meant to be playful. Diana grinned, unable to hide her delight that he seemed intact.

"Only for his sake" she returned but her voice was gentle. "I'm glad you are going to recover." She added despite herself.

"Me too" Caffrey was still for a long moment. "Is Will ok?" the signs were tentative, afraid of the answer.

"Yes." She nodded "he's ok… he's safe."

"That's good" the slim fingers said

"Elizabeth took him home…"

"Good… he's with family." Neal's hands dropped back to his sides for a moment "I remember… gun to his head."

"He's safe, I promise… you saved him." she nervously patted his knee. The young man drooped with relief and closed his eyes. He was still for so long Diana thought he was dozing.

"Diana…" slim hands formed the word slowly, nervously, catching her off guard. "I… was Peter really worried?"

"Of course he was. Why would you ask that?" Neal looked away, but his hands were still. "Caffrey? Why would you doubt that?" he shrugged but the sedatives did not allow him to hide the distress on his face.

"It's nothing… you're right. Of course he was." The long fingers that formed the words trembled visibly.

"Something made you doubt that… What is it? Did they tell you something…?" she frowned, his hands still trembled slightly when he responded.

"I have this dream…" he shook his head sadly…and he was still again.

"A dream? What sort of dream?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Forget I said anything… it's just a dream." He smiled.

"Oh no! Caffrey you started to tell me, you will finish." the heat in her voice faded as she caught his eyes lids sinking wearily… "Though maybe after you rest."

"I heard him say…" the motions surprised her, slow and awkward with exhaustion. "In the dream he told Davis not to save me… to stop" his eyes were closed by the time his hands dropped. Diana swallowed hard, the memory of Peter's despairing face on the dock rushing suddenly into her mind… Neal couldn't have heard what he said in the moment he lost hope… there was no way… but somehow he had. She was not looking forward to telling her boss that.

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"How was your first day back, hon" she asked when he came downstairs after his shower. "I made dinner and since you're here…" Elizabeth noticed the exhaustion in his eyes, the weary slope of his shoulders.

"Thanks hon." He smiled at her gratefully sinking into his chair at the table. She hadn't seen more than a glimpse of him the last two days, so she would take what she could get. "It was good to be back. We have two of the men who took Neal in custody."

"That's great!" she smiled "And how is he doing… any better."

"Much. He's going to get through this." The relief in his eyes was a brilliant spark. "At least the doctor is getting more optimistic that he will… there are still things that could go wrong but…"

"That's good. Hon that's great!"

"Yeah it is." He smiled and if it was a bit sad she let him slide "I just hope he feels the same."

"He will." Taking his hand she squeezed gently "Why wouldn't he?"

"His life may never be the same Elle, the things they did to him…" he ran his hand over his face wearily."

"Peter, look at me. Neal is a survivor… he always has been. Whatever the long term affects, he'll adapt."

"He will…" Peter nodded "you're right hon, he will"

"but you are still worried." When he nodded she slid her arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. For a few minutes they ate in silence.

"Where is William? He doing ok?"

"Sleeping… we went to the park." She smiled "When do you think he can see Neal… he asks for him all the time."

"I'm not sure seeing him right now, Elle would be good for either of them." He kept his attention on his plate "but hopefully soon." She nodded "but I'm sure he would appreciate a visit from you… I could… maybe watch the boy… while you went" she had to hide a laugh at the thought of Peter babysitting the small whirlwind upstairs.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea hon, I mean you and kids…"

"Ok so maybe not me but I know Neal would love to see you."

"He's awake enough to know me?"

"Yeah, his mind seems ok." She definitely didn't miss the way her husband's eyes darkened with unspoken worry as he said it.

"But…?"

"I'd rather not get into the rest."

"Ok."

"He knows sign language…" his lips twitched with amusement despite himself, "I'll have to add that to his file."

"I'm not actually that surprised…" Elizabeth couldn't suppress her grin.

"I shouldn't be." Peter grinned in return "he speaks nine languages fluently… that I know of. Why not sign language too?"

"And he has the nurses wrapped around his finger I'm sure."

"Even though he can't talk." his smile was soft Peter took her hand gently "But I know he'd still like to see another familiar face."

"I don't know … I'll have to see if I can work something out."

"You haven't been to see him since… you ask me to arrange for you to keep William."

"Hon…" she studied the table a moment "I just don't… it's not easy to see him like that."

"I know, but he needs all the friends he has, right now."

"You're right… I just… hon… When I saw you in the ER" she admitted "and you said you tried to save him… My first thought was he… betrayed you somehow." she blinked the tears away furiously.

"Elle…" he looked at her

"Jones pointed out my attitude… I…" She dabbed her eyes with her napkin "I'm not sure I'm ready to face him yet." She waited for him to say… something.

"Hon…" his voice choked slightly "You just doubted him. I may have destroyed his future…" she watched him swallow convulsively pushing his plate away.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing…"he said it too quickly before he looked away " just all of this…It's not just going to go away." He looked at her with such pain, she knew there was more "But…My point is…" he fell silent twisting his napkin, in his lap.

"Abandoning him isn't going to make it better… I know." She squeezed his hand and sighed.

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Lost in thought as he slid into his car, Peter didn't register the slim figure in the passenger seat until the man cleared his throat. He froze, looking up slowly. Blue eyes sparkled with amusement and a hint of superiority. Brown hair falling into those eyes in controlled disarray. Peter stared at the familiar face that definitely should not be in his car in disbelief.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Peter… I can call you Peter, right? The young man flashed a brilliant grin.

"I'm not sure I can say the same… Agent Grant."

"Very good, Peter, you got passed the alias, I'm impressed." He grinned again "Call me Kevin."

"I assume, Kevin, you are responsible for Hamelin's condition." Peter couldn't help noticing the kid didn't have a mark on him.

"I didn't hurt him. Much" he looked down for a moment "He tried to kill your consultant."

"I know… Neal told me? Do you know Neal?"

"No" a look of disbelief flickered across the familiar face before it disappeared behind the smile "that is a weird coincidence isn't it… a perfect stranger walking around with my face… disturbing."

'It is." the older man eyed him suspiciously. "What were you doing at the hospital?"

"Your Agent Berrigan told my boss that you pulled your consultant out of the river… implying he was dead." He shot Peter the same amused look Neal always did when he noticed something no one else did. "But she never actually said he was… once I knew that, it was only a matter of a little research…"

"But why were you there?"

"Curiosity?" he shrugged and the older man caught sight of the small gun under his suit coat. That was one distinct difference. Now that he noticed it, he saw others, slight as they were… the calluses on the slim finger were on the pads instead of the sides indicating keyboard use instead of paintbrushes, there was a hint of hardness… the ghosts of things done lingering in those blue eyes that was absent in Neal… the way Kevin sat was different, though relaxed his back was straighter, giving his carriage a slightly military baring, a result of six years in the Air Force, no doubt. His hair style was different, shorter on the sides and back, falling forward into his eyes. "I wanted to see for myself if there was a man who someone could mistake for me…"

"Satisfied?" He watched the blue eyes crinkle in wonder.

"At the risk of sounding unprofessional, sir…"there was another difference, Neal never called Peter sir… "Freaked out would be a better description." He flashed that grin again… but there was something in his voice Peter couldn't quite place, hesitance … uncertainty.

"Why all the hiding… you could have walked into my office and asked."

"I'm technically working… My boss would not be happy if he found out I was poking around this…"

"Why am I not surprised you have trouble following orders?" Peter shook his head.

"I follow orders just fine." He tried to sound offended but it fell short when his lips twitched up as he added quietly "Except when they are stupid orders."

"Like stay out of this mess."

"Something like that."

"So you were the one following my agent?"

"No, but I wouldn't put it passed my boss." He shrugged "He is very protective of his people. Valuable government assets and all that."

"Then why are you here?"

"I believe I just answered that."

"I meant what are you doing in my car? If you aren't supposed to be here why show yourself to me." The mischievous grin was so very like Neal's… but something was just slightly different.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me…"

"Amelia Woodbridge left a memory card with the man she believed was you."

"Your consultant?"

"Yeah."

"Is the FBI willing to turn it over to me?"

"I don't know about the FBI as a whole but, my team will be glad to return it to you."

"Thank you." Silence fell for a moment…while Peter tried to think of how to say the next part gently. "She's dead." He flinched, that was far from tactful but at least it was out there. He saw raw pain flash through those to familiar blue eyes, but Kevin covered it just as quickly as Neal would have.

"I know… I-I saw the police report." It was the tiniest stumble but Peter heard it clearly… he remembered Neal sounding much the same…

"You were close?"

"In a manner of speaking," his smile was soft…warm for a moment "We worked together a few times."

"Mannheim, Barcelona, London…" the young operative looked at him, stunned for a moment.

"How did you know?" Kevin's voice was low… sorrow seeping to his words despite his self-control.

"She brought them up trying to get Neal to remember." He sighed "the memory card… we decrypted it… the information is… dangerous. In the wrong hands…"

"I'll take care of it." he hesitated, the question lingering in his eyes before it reached his lips. "These men… the one that attacked Mr. Caffrey this afternoon and the others you suspect… they killed her didn't they?" Peter flinched inwardly. He recognized that look that flashed in those blue eyes far too well.

"Yeah, I think they did," he kept his voice even, as fury raced across the young man's expression turning his blue eyes to sharp glittering stone. "Kevin… I'll tell you the same thing I told Neal a couple of years ago… there is justice and there is revenge. Revenge is short sighted, it brings more chaos. Justice brings things back into order." The young man turned away, his shoulders drooping slightly.

"I know… my dad was a lawyer… an ADA… he always said the same thing to people… victims and their families." His voice caught a little on the words. Peter gave the younger man a moment to collect himself.

"She gave Neal something else… she wanted you to take care of." He thought of the toddler his wife had doted on for the last week.

"What do you mean?"

"It's complicated… if you will come with me." He knew no matter what happened, he was about to change this kid's life.

"I can't…I have a job to do over the weekend, but I will meet you Monday" he smiled as he slipped out of the car "at your consultant's apartment."


	17. Chapter 17

Peter smiled as he walked back into the hospital, thinking about Hamelin sleeping off tranquilizers in a holding cell, about Kevin Grant in his car, about his team working around the clock to find evidence to bring down Dennison.…he nodded at Diana quietly when he entered the room.

"How's he doing?"

"He was pretty talkative earlier." She said blandly

"Really? Should have known you knew sign language." She nodded with a little shrug

"He's still Neal…" she looked up at him and shook her head "The way you looked earlier when everyone asked how he was… I thought… but he's still the same old Caffrey. He'll be back at work in no time." Peter stiffened, his smile slipping…

"Yeah in no time…" but he couldn't keep the worry out of his voice… three days and his legs had been so still.

"Ok, boss what's wrong… you have that look again. If you're not worried about brain damage…" Peter swallowed, nodding quietly

"Diana… they haven't said anything for sure yet" he could see her waiting for the rest of it…

"But?" she prompted when he hesitated… Peter took a deep breath

"The bullet was lodged in his spine." Her face blanched, he knew she was picturing the rough movement as they lifted Neal from the water… the way the agents had lay him so quickly on the dock…allowing his body to fold loosely however his limbs fell…

"You mean he's…D*** it!" she hesitated "Boss does he know?"

"I think he's probably noticed… but I don't think anyone has talked to him about it… he's been weak… and drugged and…the doctor isn't certain what to expect yet." Diana stood up… looked at the sleeping man then back at Peter… her hands clenched in fists at her side.

"Was the damage done by the bullet… or by the way he was…" she shook her head "he was using his legs before he went off the dock… when he lunged at Hamelin." Diana took a shuttering breath

"We did it." Peter said quietly "the way I moved him when I swam… the way we pulled him back onto the dock."

"He was dying boss" she said softly "no one was thinking of spinal injuries because getting his heart beating was more important!" her voice rose slightly as she justified

"I know… I know we did what needed to be done but," he sighed "I just hope Neal agrees." She nodded sharply

"He will." She reassured him, but when she glanced at the sleeping young man her shoulders drooped a little "I need some coffee boss… you want some?'

"Thanks." He leaned back against the wall and sighed, rolling his shoulders… It was a relief to share his worry with someone.

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"How was he?" Jones finally managed to ask after watching her glare at her coffee for ten minutes. He was pretty sure he didn't want to hear the answer. The way she stormed out just a minute after Peter's arrival said far more than he wanted to know, but he had to ask. Diana looked up, sighed and returned her gaze to her cup.

"He's still Caffrey." She finally told the coffee softly. He sat down in the chair beside her, waiting.

"That's good." He said into the uncomfortable silence

"D*** IT!" she surged to her feet so suddenly Jones jerked back instinctively. She threw the paper cup at the trash can violently.

"Do I want to know what's wrong?" he asked her pacing form. She stopped… her furious gaze twisted.

"Just be glad you took William to the car before we pulled him out. At least you know it's not your fault."

"You think you hurt him?" he stared at her in disbelief. "From what I heard…"

"Yeah…"Diana sighed and settled in beside him. "Peter pushed him up and everyone grabbed him… he was like a wet blanket… like he had nothing left inside. I had his right arm Davis had his left when we pulled him up. His head just flopped between us until someone got his shoulders. We didn't even think about hurting him… just heaved him up and dropped him on the dock." She stood up again unable to contain the nervous energy but she turned and met her friend's eyes "his back was broken, Jones… the bullet…"

"Oh G**" he shook his head sadly "how bad? Just his legs or his arms too?"

"Just his legs… but he's Caffrey… movement is who he is… and now…" she sank into the seat again staring at her hands for several seconds "No one has told him yet."

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The morning light spilling through the window woke him…just moments before Dr. Wilson stepped inside for the morning exam, with a smile for Peter. With a nod at the physician he excused himself to find breakfast.

When he returned an hour later he was surprised to find his friend free of the breathing apparatus, propped up slightly in the bed, a mask in place of the tube. A wobbly smile greeted him from behind the device, before it was pushed aside by Neal's determined hand.

"Hey." The voice was smaller than usual, a rough whisper really but the look in Neal's eyes made the older man smile.

"Hey" he chuckled then "but while it's good to hear your voice." The kid has no idea how good. He thought, roughly pushing aside the picture of his friend pale and lifeless on the dock that assaulted his mind. "You probably should keep that on" Neal shook his head

"I'm … good… for a… minute."

"Only a minute… ok?" he tried for stern, but it was just so good to hear the kid's voice…

"Ok" Neal grinned weakly.

"I had an interesting encounter last night."

"Oh…?"

"I got in my car and found you sitting in my passenger seat."

"Peter…" his smile broadened. "Hal…lucina…tions? If I… knew you… would… miss me… that much" his words came in gasps but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"You're funny…"he shook his head, suppressing a laugh "you'll be pleased to know if I doubted the existence of your double… I don't anymore."

"Good… to know" Neal grew serious "he was… in your… car?"

"He was."

"Do you… think… he's a… threat?" The worry that tinted the words made Peter smile

"Relax Neal, he didn't threaten me. I think he's on our side. He did save your life." Neal seemed to consider that. "He and Amelia were… close." Neal's eyes widened in clarity.

"Obvi…ously" He whispered as they both thought of William. For a moment only his raspy breathing filled the silence.

"Put the mask back on Neal…" as usual the young man ignored him. His fingers toyed with the blanket instead.

"What… did he… want?"

"The memory card."

"Did …you… give it… to him?"

"No I haven't exactly been carrying it on me" Peter said lightly before his expression shifted to serious, "but I will…it was intended for him." Neal nodded

"And… Will?"

"He's probably the kid's father Neal."

"True." The younger man fell quiet… the small conversation was clearly taxing him

"Rest Neal…"he patted his friend's shoulder "I'll take care of him." Neal nodded allowing his head to droop against the pillow.

"When you… meet with… him… again… tell him… I… want to… meet him…" he managed as he drifted off. The older man quietly replaced the mask.

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"The park is beautiful this time of year." The small man muttered as he sat down on the adjoining bench.

"It really is" Peter spoke thoughtfully.

"You are supposed to say, 'the apple blossoms in particular."

"But they aren't… it's too early for apple blossoms"

"That is the point… it's a code. To confirm your identity."

"Haversham you know who I am." He couldn't keep the exasperation from his voice.

"You could be an impostor."

"Then I would have been an impostor when you called and I agreed to meet with you."

"That's ridiculous, I recognized your voice and cadence."

"And now you have my voice and my face."

"I think a little caution is in order… considering the circumstances. These people are clearly ruthless. Now what about the apple blossoms?"

"Mozzie." He ran his hand over his face "I assume you had a reason for meeting me, besides discussing nonexistent apple blossoms."

"I did, of course." His tone was offended "you did ask me to look into a Kevin Grant as I recall."

"I did." Even though he no longer thought the young man was a threat… the more he knew the better. "What did you find?"

"Mr. Grant was an exceptional student in college… his professors remember him well."

"I imagine he would be hard to forget"

"Brilliant mind." He shook his head "smart mouth… and distinctive blue eyes. They all remember him quite clearly."

"Sounds familiar" Peter smiled and Mozzie hesitated, gulping nervously.

"How is he?"

"Better. Off the ventilator…he still has a long way to go but he's still Neal… I'll let my people know if you want to visit..." The small man nodded sharply then abruptly pulled off his glasses, cleaning them vigorously.

"I might consider another trip into the germ incubator to see for myself he is recovering appropriately."

"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you." Another sharp nod as he replaced his glasses "Now you were saying about Grant?"

"His military files are of course sealed, but I have found evidence he was involved in so called military intelligence… as if there is such a thing."

"Interesting."

"He never got close to anyone he worked with it appears." Except Amelia Woodbridge the agent thought.

"I assume you know his parents are dead… were you aware it was a car accident…"

"I was."

"His father died in-route to the hospital… internal bleeding. His mother lingered for four and a half months. She suffered a severe head injury. She remained unresponsive until her demise… Kevin's first act when he turned eighteen was to take her off life support."

"I see." He tried not to imagine how hard that must have been.

"Yes, well… he still owns their home in Delaware and has their long time cleaning lady keep the place in shape."

"Now that is interesting." Peter frowned at him "Why do you think he does that?"

"Sentimentality? Secret stash? Clandestine meetings with aliens?" Mozzie's wave encompassing "Her name is Regina Johnson. I suggest you ask her."

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Gripping the small hand in hers Elizabeth walked past the nurse's station as though she had every right to be there. Will technically wasn't supposed to be here but last night had been rough… the little boy needed to see for himself his friend was still alive. Approaching the room she slowed. A glimpse through the door revealed three nurses around the bed. Her stomach twisted… was something wrong… something happened. Then one of the women, a plump motherly woman with dark hair greying slightly around the edges broke off from the group and walked toward her.

"Is Neal ok?" the words were out before she could stop them.

"As ok as he can be at the moment." the woman smiled at her kindly. Her eyes dropped to Will for a moment her expression thoughtful. "We are prepping him for surgery this morning"

"Why? Did something happen?" Peter had been so hopeful the other night that he was going to be alright… and last night he said…

"No" the nurse smiled ruefully "I didn't mean to worry you… now that he is stable the surgeon wants to place the skin grafts on his arms and legs."

"Oh" she took a deep breath. "Do you think it would be possible for us to see him… just for a moment? Will has been begging to see him." the woman looked them over slowly, let her gaze settle on the boy's big blue eyes and sighed.

"Technically I'm not supposed to allow children under twelve in… but just for a few minutes."

"Thank you." Elizabeth forced herself to breathe calmly… it was time to face her friend and hope he didn't see though her to… didn't see how thoughtless she had been.

"Just so you know, honey" the nurse said "he's already been given a mild sedative… he's sleepy… probably not entirely coherent."

Elizabeth bit her tongue but if she was honest she was relieved, knowing that made it easier to step into the room. Easier but not easy. The nurses were gone now… the room empty except for the young man, who opened his eyes and blinked lazily at her when the door clicked shut behind her. Lifting Will into her arms she forced her feet to move forward.

"Hi Neal? How are you?" the words sounded hollow in her ears, but they earned her a sleepy smile. His hand fumbled at the mask over his face for a moment before he managed to push it away.

"I'm… fine." She had to blink away sudden tears. His blue eyes studied her a bit closer "are you… ok?" she was spared the need to answer when the toddler in her arms suddenly squirmed and cried out.

"Eal!"

"Hi… Will." Elizabeth noticed the way he tried to shift… to look more awake… stronger when he spoke to the boy. "Have you… been good?"

"Un-huh." The child nodded against her shoulder, his thumb finding his mouth nervously. She understood his nervousness… the man still looked like a science experiment gone wrong. All the tubes running in and out were probably terrifying for the little boy, Elizabeth thought… maybe this really was a bad idea. Then suddenly Will's other hand reached out as he lunged for Neal. She barely caught him before he fell.

"No William you can't-."

"It's … ok…" Neal opened his arms "a hug …can't hurt." he murmured smiling wearily. Elizabeth eyed him doubtfully before gingerly placing the small boy on the bed, carefully trying to avoid all of the attachments that surrounded the young man.

"Be very gentle Will." She instructed "he still has a lot of owies, and you don't want to hurt him."

"I know." The toddler said adamantly before folding into his friend's arms and laying his dark head against Neal's thin shoulder. Wrapping his little arms around the man's neck, he clung desperately. Neal awkwardly patted the tiny shoulder for a minute, muttering soothing words quietly, before his hand slid away and he dropped abruptly off to sleep.

"I'm sorry," the motherly nurse said gently as she entered a few minutes later the surgeon is ready for him now." Elizabeth tried to gently extract a content and sleepy William without pulling on anything she shouldn't.

"Come on baby… Neal needs to sleep now." She said but he shook his head and tightened his hold on his friend's neck. "We'll come back to see him again soon. I promise." She said quietly as she pulled him away. The movement woke the young man long enough for him to offer one last drowsy smile before dropping back to sleep. As the nurse moved in to replace the plastic mask, his face suddenly twisted with pain and fear, his dreams clearly less than pleasant.

Turning his head fitfully he murmured "No… Won't tell you… boss's name" the woman bending over him looked up sadly. She must have seen the horror that shot through Elizabeth written on her face

"It's ok, he's alright" the nurse said helpfully "Nightmares are to be expected considering…"

With William cradled in her arms, Elizabeth fled.


	18. Chapter 18

Stepping into Neal's apartment felt strange… knowing the young man wasn't there. Especially followed by a slender man that wore Neal's face but was definitely not his friend. Kevin Grant looked at him in surprise… clearly this was not the type of place he had expected, but he said nothing, eyes flicking from the books to the paintings along the wall... his fingers brushing the half- finished piece on the easel, trying to get a feel for the man who lives here, Peter guessed.

"He wants to meet you" Peter broke the silence

"Your consultant?"

"Neal. Yes."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." He met Peter's gaze "for his safety…obviously being mistaken for me hasn't been good for his health, being seen associating with me wouldn't be any better." the older man sighed, not disagreeing.

"He won't see it that way." Peter said quietly

Several minutes passed in near silence before a light knock proceeded the entrance of Miranda Wallace. She stopped just inside the door way.

"Was there a reason you wanted me to meet you here Agent Burke?" she gave Kevin a disdainful look…

"Yes there is… Miss Wallace this is Michael Scott…"

"That is very amusing, Mr. Caffrey but… I am very busy. If you will excuse me…"

"Miss Wallace…" Peter's voice was tight as he spoke "Neal is currently in the hospital… and unable to be present. This is Michael Scott."

"I see…" her face wavered uncertainly "and you believe this man is the one Mr. Caffrey insisted he was mistaken for…"

"He is."

"Mistaken identity doesn't explain the test results."

"It might… there is one way to find out." It would answer more than one question actually, Peter thought, but he wasn't ready to voice his suspicions yet even though he was almost certain.

"I could, I suppose, run another test…" her voice held a long suffering tone.

"If I may, what are we talking about?" Kevin's voice was light, amused by the conversation, but years of learning to read Neal had taught Peter to hear the underlying tension.

"Amelia Woodbridge left something… someone in Neal's care."

"Someone?"

"She left a minor child in the care of Mr. Caffrey…"Miranda was still regarding the man with an air of doubtful surprise.

"A child?" Kevin repeated painfully… Peter winced, the kid sounded like he was choking.

"Her son" the older man clarified

"Amelia had a son?" he was clearly getting control back and his voice barely wavered. "She never mentioned…"

"She did… his name is William." Peter watched the younger man's reaction closely… "He's two and a half."

"Two and a half?" his eyes were calculating, counting months as he quickly did the math. Seeing the moment of realization and disbelief Peter gave him one last push

"His eyes are the exact color of yours." clarity registered in Kevin's eyes, followed by shock and then a brief flicker of something resembling panic before his face closed, covering the rest of his thoughts.

"Open up" Miranda broke in, holding up her swab. He obediently opened his mouth too stunned to argue. The social worker took her sample and turned to go. "I'll have the results in a couple of days." She said from the door way.

"She's a real ray of sunshine, isn't she?" The young man commented wanly

"At least she didn't call you scum." He offered, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Kevin looked around the apartment again, wandering the room in silence, clearly lost in thought, until Peter cleared his throat quietly. The younger man looked up.

"I brought this." Peter extended the memory card. The Kevin took it silently, turning the little device over in his hand.

"This is what they wanted…" he finally said "this is why they killed Amelia?"

"It is."

"Do you know what's on it?"

"I never looked but IT gave me a summary."

"Worth killing for?"

"Worth dying to protect." The younger man nodded gravely, in acknowledgement of the difference. He tucked the card into his pocket and turned away thoughtfully, swallowing hard several times.

"The men you have in custody… you think they killed Amelia?"

"I'm certain they were involved." He saw that flicker of emotion in blue eyes as Kevin nodded

"I don't doubt that." He shook his head "but they are not smart enough to have pulled it off alone."

"I know. There were absolutely others involved."

"Who?" his voice hardened dangerously. Peter flinched… this man would not hesitate to pull the trigger if he decided to.

"Before I give you a name I want a promise that you want justice not revenge."

"I want both," His jaw clenched "but I'll play by the rules as long as it's possible" Peter sighed… that was as good as he was going to get.

"James Dennison." He finally conceded "he runs an information business…"

"The FBI can't find him?"

"Finding him isn't the biggest problem, though he is definitely laying low… we need proof he was directly involved." Kevin turned away then… striding to the French doors as though he owned the apartment. Peter could see the muscle in the young man's jaw clench tight enough to snap.

"Dennison has been on our watch list for a while." His smile was grim when he turned back into the room. "He is known to be a dangerous man. I'm sure my boss would approve a move against him… I can get you proof, Peter." The soft voice was colder than ice.

He was out the door in a moment, his back ramrod straight and his stride confident.

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"Berrigan." She answered her phone, laying her sandwich aside

"This is Regina Johnson." The voice made her sit up a little straighter. "You left me a message about the Grants?" Yes she had, two days ago when Peter gave her the name.

"Yes Ma'am. I understand you cleaned their house for twenty-five years before Mr. and Mrs. Grant died."

"I did. What is this about?"

"I wanted to ask you about their son?"

"Kevin… that poor boy…"

"Why do you say that?"

"They were picking him up after his first year of college when they died in that accident."

"Kevin was with them?"

"He was… as I understood it the boy only survived because he was in the back seat. Can you imagine being seventeen and waking up alone in the hospital with broken ribs, a broken femur and burns all over your legs… and the first thing anyone tells you, is your parents are dead. The poor boy… it's no wonder he doesn't come back to the house…"

"You haven't seen him since the accident?"

"he came back to visit his father's grave about 3 months after the accident… just after he was released from the hospital… he stayed in the hotel and left to go back to college the next day. The last time I saw him was about a month after that… at his mother's funeral"

"I see…"

"He sends me a cheque once a month to go by and look after the place… but he never comes back."

"I see… Mrs. Johnson I actually wanted to know if you remember when Kevin was born."

"Of course not. They adopted him in August before he turned two in September…I remember the day they brought him home though… like it was yesterday. Little guy was so little… looked a lot younger than he was… but he talked… talked like he was much older… and cried for his daddy… I never knew what happened to his dad… funny little guy though… had an imaginary friend until he was ten… would talk to him like he was in the room… he called him Neal… even included him in his bed time prayers…"

"Do you remember the name of the adoption agency?"

"No… there was no agency… not really, just a woman who came to the house… her name was Natalie… Natalie Shea, if my memory serves."

"No one thought she was suspicious?"

"She said she couldn't afford to raise her son after her boyfriend died… Mr. and Mrs. Grant had tried to have a baby for fifteen years…they tried adopting twice only to have it fall through… and now she was just offering to give them one… I don't think they thought about it too much."

"I see. Thank you Mrs. Johnson." She hesitated "do you know how much they gave Miss Shea?"

"I don't know how much… but I know they gave her a substantial check to help her get back on her feet."

Hanging up Diana knew two important things… two dots that no one else had ever connected in the old case… If Kevin Grant was Nicholas Bennett, then the other eight missing children were probably sold off in legitimate looking non -agency adoptions too, and the kidnapper had an accomplice.

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"Hey hon." She smiled nervously as he bustled in the door. "Tell me you are planning on sleeping here tonight." He returned her smile

"I was planning on it." there was something about his expression as he turned to hang up his coat.

"Neal told you to leave him alone didn't he?"

"Actually he told me I looked terrible… and not to come back until I had dinner with you and slept at least ten hours in my own bed." She could help joining him when he laughed, but her question weighed her down.

"I took Will to see him yesterday morning."

"That's good… it didn't scare the little guy did it?"

"It didn't seem to…" she toyed with her necklace self- consciously "he crawled into the bed and hung onto Neal like a life line."

"He didn't mention a visit."

"He was pretty out of it… they were getting ready to for skin grafts…" she swallowed "did they take?"

"Too soon to tell." He studied her closely "Elle, hon what's wrong… something happened?"

"Before we left he fell asleep… I could tell his dreams were… bad…" she sighed "then he said… something about not telling who his boss is…" the expression on Peter's face almost answered her questions "he didn't … tell them… did he?"

"No he didn't." he dropped his eyes. "I'm sure of that." Elizabeth shuttered, her vision blurring with tears…as he confirmed her fear.

"That's why they hurt him isn't it?"

"It's part of the reason, yes."

"They tortured him for…" her frantic blinking only dislodged the moisture in her eyes sending it rolling down her cheeks. "It always seems like he comes out on top… but he never really does, does he?" and then she was crying in earnest. She felt Peter's arms around her his hand petting her head nervously… the tension in his body as he tried to think of what he should do. She buried her face into his shoulder and tried to get her emotions under control. "For months I've been thinking… wondering if the price of his friendship was too high… for us." She sighed and struggled not to cry again "Now I just keep thinking maybe the price of our friendship has been too high for him."

"Apparently he doesn't think so." Peter said softly.

"I know." She shook her head "but he should… he's lost so much…too much… because of us."

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He stood with his hand on the door, with every intention of stepping through but the words he heard froze him in place.

"You haven't told Peter have you?" Diana's voice asked anxiously

"Why… would I … tell him… about a … dream? Didn't mean… to tell you. I blame the … drugs."

"Good" she sounded far too serious for Neal's teasing response

"Unless…" he was quiet a moment "Diana? What is it?"

"Nothing." Peter could picture the look Neal was giving her for that, without seeing his face.

"I can… see… you… thinking… of a story."

"They must be reducing your drugs… you are to d*** perceptive." There was a hint of a smile in her voice now but weariness too.

"They are…" he said his tone suggested that was obvious. "Back into… the human range. Now… why are… you worried… about… telling Peter… about a… dream." The way he struggled to get the sentence out was painful.

"Because it wasn't just a dream." Diana's words were barely audible

"You mean… it… happened…" there was fear in his voice now "Peter… really wants … me…"

"NO!" the emphatic answer echoed for a moment "Absolutely not… it wasn't like that. I don't know how you remember that at all but obviously you don't remember all of it."

"But he… told Davis… to stop…?" the question turned the older man's blood to ice.

"Yes… but he didn't really want him to… he just thought… Neal, he lost hope for a minute. You looked so bad and you weren't responding and…"

"He thought… I was…"

"Yeah." She sighed "at that point you pretty much were." The room was quiet for a full minute except for Neal's harsh breathing and Diana shifting in the chair. "He dove in the river to find you… it was twenty-four degrees, but he dove in and refused to come out until he had you. You need to know that." Peter waited at the door… waited for he didn't know what. "You can't tell him you remember, Neal…"

"It would …upset him…" his voice broke slightly.

"Upset him? Yeah, that's one way of putting it." she sighed again "Get some rest."

"That's… all I do… lately…" he complained but even Peter could hear the exhaustion creeping into his voice. The older man lifted his hand from the knob… he needed some coffee before he entered that room. He clenched his hands to keep them from trembling, but he could do nothing about his twisting stomach.

It wasn't possible but somehow Neal remembered the moment he gave up on him. He needed to bring it up with him… Needed to explain. Diana shouldn't have told him to keep quiet. Neal deserved to hear the truth from him, but he had no idea how to start that conversation. "I was eavesdropping Neal and I know you remember that I told my agent not to save you." Yeah that would go over well. Maybe he could wait until his friend was stronger…


	19. Chapter 19

Jones looked up from his magazine when the unfamiliar young doctor stepped into the room, tensing for trouble, but he couldn't quite hide his grin when Neal smiled at her as brightly as he could manage. She was cute, the agent admitted to himself. A slender woman with caramel toned skin and midnight eyes, long hair in tiny braids pulled back in a large French braid, she met the greeting with a compassionate smile.

"Mr. Caffrey," she said gently "I'm Dr. Mitchell, I am your Neurologist…"

"Neal." He offered his right hand though the movement made him wince and the word was muffled by the mask.

"A pleasure to finally meet you. I have not been in since your surgery… while your other doctors dealt with other matters that were of more pressing concern. Dr. Wilson has, however been keeping me apprised of your condition."

"Ok?" Neal hesitated, Jones noted… he's not sure he wants to hear what she's going to say. Pushing the mask aside he plunged in. "So you're… here to tell… me about… my…my spine. I would… appre…ciate that. Everyone has…has been… avoiding… my questions."

"I'm sure that is frustrating…we … your medical team felt it would be best to avoid discussing your situation with you until you were better able to tolerate the stress. Your body has been through a tremendous amount of trauma…" her words made Neal chuckle painfully.

"I noticed…" he swallowed, his eyes reflecting the memories. He visibly shook himself to continue. "but you were… called in… for my …spine …right?"

"Among other things… yes." She nodded. Jones noticed the flicker in blue eyes…

"Other things?"

"There is a possibility the burns on your arms may have caused nerve damage… and of course oxygen deprivation is…" she paused, apparently searching for a gentle way to explain.

"Not good?" Neal supplied with a grin that radiated to brightly to Jones.

"No it's not." The doctor chuckled as she lifted his right hand carefully "Can you move your fingers… one by one?" Neal complied with a sigh.

"But my back…?"

"We'll get to the spinal injury in a moment." her eyes locked on his calmly "First I need to assess your general neurological condition." Neal rolled his eyes and Jones suppressed a chuckle. The room was quiet… for exactly thirty seconds.

"Is it … permanent?" the agent flinched at the desperation in his friend's voice. The young woman sighed, looking at the file in her hands a moment.

"I don't know." She admitted and met his eyes again "it is too soon to know that with any certainty… We will know a little more after my examination this morning."

"Then let's… get started… shall we…?" Jones offered the other man what he hoped was a reassuring smile as the doctor shook her head and moved confidently around the bed, asking questions clearly intended to determine his mental clarity, though how she could do that while he was on so many drugs, Jones couldn't say. When she lifted his feet checking the pulse at his ankles, it was an odd relief to see him flinch slightly as her fingers touched the burns… she continued pricking his toes and legs gently, shifting the limbs carefully. When she was finished expectation seemed to fill the room.

"Well…?"

"Well it appears severe hypothermia prevented any substantial brain damage…"

"Gathered that…"his smile earned him one in return "And my… spine…?" his voice barely trembled

"You have some feeling which is encouraging…but you have no movement at this time…"

"So you… don't know…"

"I think you will regain some movement… it is hard to determine how much at this point… I will schedule the physical therapist to stop by tomorrow. We will start slowly and see where you end up. Neal it is important that you be patient with yourself. Your body… and your mind, have a lot to recover from." He nodded quietly… it was better than no hope, but it was a long way from a promise of complete recovery.

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"Agent Burke?" Miranda's voice through his phone gave away nothing "I have the results back."

"and?"

"And… you were right Michael Scott is also a paternal match for William Woodbridge. We can request a more in depth test but… it will take weeks, maybe longer to come back.

"Thanks but I'm pretty sure we all know which one is actually the boy's father."

"Most likely." She sighed "I may have jumped the gun on my assessment of Mr. Caffrey."

"Just a little bit."

"You said he is in the hospital?"

"Yes." Peter frowned uncertainly.

"How long will he be there, do you think?"

"I'm not sure." His gut hesitated to tell her more "Why?"

"I need to assure the well-being of the minor."

"Will is staying with me and my wife while Neal recovers." He paused "he is being taken care of well. I'm sure Elle… my wife would let you inspect our home if you need to."

"I see… thank you Agent Burke. I'll be in touch." She disconnected quickly.

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Walking into the room he was surprised to find his friend not only awake but propped up against the bed reading… the mask replaced by a simpler oxygen tube… though the effort it took to hold the book with his weak, burned arms was obvious. The call from Miranda Wallace had confirmed what he already knew… Peter sighed, wondering what exactly he should say to Neal. Every explanation he thought of seemed awkward… and almost cruel.

"Hey."

"Hey" Neal looked up, letting the book sag against his legs. Peter sat in the chair still trying to think how to say what was on his mind.

"You look better?" he said "no mask…"

"I … kept pushing …it off… to talk." The young man gave a one sided shrug "so they… gave me… this… when I'm awake…"

"In other words they couldn't stop you from pulling it off to talk so they…"

"Adapted?" he grinned "The ability… to adapt… is a useful skill…" he gasped for a moment "I'm doing… them a …favor"

"Neal."

"Peter"

"Your lungs need time to heal."

"I know …but I'm…ok."

"Right, which is why you can't get out more than two words at a time."

"I'm getting… there."

"I know." he shifted slightly in his chair… he patted his friend's knee absently, his mind drifting back to Miranda's call. The moment of quiet grew too long.

Neal said softly "just tell … me…"

"What?"

"You have… bad news. Just tell me…"

"Not bad really. Just complicated."

"When is any…thing simple…?" he grinned and Peter found himself smiling back. Taking a deep breath he plunged in.

"Miss Wallace's results came back today."

"And…?'

"Kevin Grant also tested as Will's father."

"So that… means…" a look of shock crossed his face before blue eyes turned away to cover his thoughts the only way he could in his current condition.

"It means the odds against him being your identical twin are astronomical." Peter said it aloud…

"My brother… is? I still…still… have… a …br… brother" he gasped before it turned to a deep cough.

"You need to calm down" the older man rose quickly unsure how to sooth his friend "Neal you need to breathe…"

"r-right…" the younger man made a valiant effort to slow his frantic respirations…

"I'm going to put the mask back on."

"No…I'm … ok." His wheezing breaths were beginning to slow.

"I should have waited to tell you."

"No!" falling back against the pillows he managed a small smile "I want… to… know."

"Are you sure…"

"What's … he like…?"

"You…" Peter offered a teasing smile to cover his worry "with a gun."

"Carries… a gun…?" Neal's expression faltered

"Neal…"Peter hesitated "It comes with his job description." He was met with raised eyebrows. "He's a CIA agent."

"License… to kill?" the kid was grinning mischievously now but he couldn't hide the anxiety in his eyes.

"I didn't ask… figured it was better if I didn't know."

"Prob…ably" he rolled his shoulders thoughtfully "what else…did you …find?"

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Neal lay his book aside… he had been reading the same chapter for over an hour. His swirling thoughts made it almost impossible to concentrate. It was getting dark outside his window, not that it mattered much… his days seemed to all blend together lately.

He shifted as much as he could without help and sighed.

A brother… he always suspected he had a brother once but to have it confirmed… to know he was still alive… it was strangely overwhelming… and worrisome. Neal desperately wanted to meet him but… his family had a way of hurting him. Would Kevin deceive and betray him like James had… or would he be distant like his mother… forgetting he existed more often than not? Would he, a sworn federal agent even acknowledge him… "No one actually wants an evil twin?" he thought grimly. Peter said Kevin refused to meet him for his safety but what if…

Peter… he hated keeping secrets from Peter. Not that he couldn't, of course. He had done it many times but it always ate at his conscience like very few things did. Diana was right of course, there wasn't any reason to bring up his dream to Peter. Bringing it up would only hurt his friend. It wasn't fair to look him in the eye and tell him "I know you told Davis to stop when he was trying to save me." Not there was no reason for that since Diana told him it was only a moment of weakness… or hopelessness. The fact was, he shouldn't remember it at all. From what everyone said the only way he could remember was… he shuttered at the thought, but he did remember and he wished he could hear Peter say he hadn't really given up him… he really hated keeping secrets from his family and the painkillers in his system didn't make it any easier…

Painkillers he would most likely need for a long time… the burns…his spine. At least the doctor hadn't said there was no hope but, even a significant recovery… best case scenario, most likely left him shuffling along with support, crutches or a cane. Neal swallowed hard at that thought. Even if he recovered full use of his legs, he was under no illusions… his back would be painful, possibly extremely so, for the rest of his life. Would he be able to take care of William on pain medication and crutches… he gulped.

William who was not his but already felt like he was… His little nephew, that thought would take some getting used to… not just a sweet little boy, but family. Real family. G** he hoped he didn't hurt that baby like his family always seemed to. Maybe Kevin would take him… his own father was probably the better option for raising him. Unless Kevin turned out to be like their parents…

A brother… he had a living twin brother… it was surreal. his thoughts began the circle again.

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"Hey hon," he answer the phone cheerfully "I'm on my way home right now." It was actually true.

"Honey I need you here right now." He heard the tears she was holding back.

"What's wrong? Are you ok?" his imagination supplied him with unwanted images. Elle and Will hiding while Dennison's men searched the house for them. Followed by one of the thugs holding her at gun point forcing her to call him.

"There is a woman here. She's trying to take Will."

"Is her name Miranda?"

"Yes… she says we don't have custody… and we are keeping him illegally."

"Tell her I'm on my way. Ask her to at least wait for me."

"Ok." She whispered. He disconnected and drove faster.

Entering the house he found Elle on the couch clutching the small boy to her. Miranda sat in the arm chair watching them closely. Surprisingly she did not look smug or triumphant. Rather she looked resigned and … regretful.

"Agent Burke" she greeted as he entered. "I am really sorry about this"

"But you still intend to take him."

"Unfortunately, yes." She smiled apologetically

"Taking him from a place he feels safe and loved" Elizabeth broke in "to at best a new place and new people to get used to… just because we don't have the right paperwork."

"I'm afraid it is more than that. Mrs. Burke, we were not informed of a kidnapping and serious injury of the child and his official caregiver. We were not informed of a change in custody and address… It appears you have been good to him but my hands are tied…"

"I'm sure they are Ms. Wallace." He couldn't quite hide the sarcasm in his tone.

"Agent Burke, my supervisor was inclined to charge you and your wife with kidnapping…" she sighed. Elizabeth gasped and Peter froze in shock. "I managed to convince her that your failure to communicate was probably just an oversight due to the stress of the situation. She is however adamant that the minor be removed from a 'clearly dangerous' environment. Hopefully the child will soon be placed with his father permanently and foster care will only be a brief solution."

"I see." He managed "will Neal still be allowed to see him… he is apparently his uncle."

"Hon, you aren't going to let her take him, are you!?" she gripped Peter's arm desperately.

"I have to. We don't have much choice Elle." He took her hand gently "if we fight they will take him by force. Think of William… how traumatic that would be for him. Being dragged away like that."

"But Neal didn't want him to go to…"

"I know." He smiled at her "and I'm sure his **_lawyer_** will get William out of the system as soon as possible." Her tear filled eyes focused on his face "Why don't you go give Mr. Haversham a call right now and get him working on it." she gave him a small understanding smile in return.

"I think that is an excellent idea, agent Burke" Miranda said "but for the moment I do have to take the boy."

"I understand. Just promise me Neal will still be able to see him."

"I will do everything in my power to ensure that."


	20. Chapter 20

Standing outside the door Elizabeth bit her lip nervously. At least it wasn't the ICU anymore she thought… and the glimpse of Neal she caught through the door way appeared much less fragile than the last time she visited. Reclining in the bed, absorbed in a book he looked almost normal. Squaring her shoulders, she told herself firmly she could do this… just like she told Peter this morning when he offered to explain the situation to their friend.

"You going to come in?" Neal's voice interrupted her thoughts even though he hadn't looked up. "I promise not to pass out… for at least half an hour…" his voice still sounded breathy and weak, but despite the oxygen he was still on, he didn't gasp painfully between words.

"Hi sweetie…" she started, unsure how to begin "How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok." He lay the book aside and looked at her, offering a wan smile.

"Well," she returned his smile with some effort. "You certainly look better than the last time I was here."

"I must have slept through your last visit…" he chuckled self-consciously "Sorry about that"

"You didn't actually" Elizabeth perched nervously on the chair near his bed "but you were pretty well drugged."

He opened his mouth to reply then closed it quietly… after a moment he said "I've been drugged pretty often lately."

"It's completely understandable" she studied her hands for a long moment "I'm sorry they hurt you like this." The words spilled out before she could catch them "I know you protected us… that they wouldn't have… hurt you so much if you had given them Peter's name… and I am so sorry for…" she trailed off, trying not to cry.

"Hey" his voice pulled her eyes up "It's ok."

"No it's not, but thank you… I can't thank you enough for… not telling them… and for everything else."

"You're as close to family as anyone I have… family takes care of each other."

"Yeah." She dropped her eyes "you're right."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you, if I can help It." that did it… she was crying.

"I'm sorry" she managed, as she swiped at her cheeks "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" He watched her quietly. Just say it, she thought, just tell him.

"I wanted to… I tried to take care of William…" she took a deep breath to steady her nerves the last three weeks wearing on her heavily

"What happened?" Neal suddenly looked tremendously frail and afraid "is he hurt?"

"No!" Elizabeth calmed her voice and squared her shoulders again, trying to sound soothing "No Neal, honey he's ok… he's fine. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." She blew out a breath "But Miss Wallace took him yesterday… she placed him in a temporary foster home."

"Oh." His tone was flat… carefully controlled. "What does that mean exactly? Will I get him back when…?"

"I'm not sure, but" she looked at him with new resolve "Neal, we are not going to let your nephew grow up in the system. He will be much better off with you and we will make sure that happens if that's what you want." She owed him that and more right now.

"Elizabeth you don't have too…"

"Family takes care of each other." She met his eye firmly "that's what you said. Well… you and Will are family. We'll take care of this, don't worry." He grinned at her hopefully, but worry still clouded his eyes...

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Neal offered the slim, grey haired doctor the best smile he could manage, but Dr. Wilson's expression remained solemn as he looked from the chart to the young man.

"You don't have any problems with liquids?"

"No." he shook his head. "Not really" sitting like a lump in his stomach for a few minutes before they settled wasn't really a problem.

"I was hoping to release you to the rehabilitation facility tomorrow" The elderly man shook his head "But I am not comfortable doing that without knowing why you can't keep down more than two or three bites of solids."

"I'm sure it will get better soon." He desperately wanted to get out of this room, this hospital… even though he doubted the rehab center would be that much better, it would be different. Three weeks in this place was long enough. Besides this wasn't just about him… if he had any hope of getting his nephew out of foster care he needed to get well… quickly.

"This is the second time we've tried to start you on solids…both have had the same result." he frowned "the damage to your esophagus was… extensive but it should be sufficiently healed by now to tolerate a soft diet." His hands pressed gently on Neal's stomach just below the diaphragm. "Does that seem more painful than it has been?"

"No." he swallowed quickly, as the broth he just consumed threatened a reappearance.

"Would you tell me if it was?"

"Yes." Neal said quickly. Dr. Wilson offered him a doubtful smile. "I would like to run some tests… if you will consent."

"Yeah" Neal sighed "if it will help get me out of here."

"Neal, I know you are anxious to begin your recovery in earnest but I am concerned… a rupture of your esophagus would set you back severely… it could be significantly dangerous to your health."

"I know." He forced as much surrender into his smile as he could as his whole being rebelled against the delay.

"I am worried that a rupture would allow gastric fluid to leak into your abdominal cavity which would set you up for another potentially fatal infection." The doctor patted his arm gently "we want to do everything we can to prevent that, right?"

"Right." The resignation in his voice was almost real. "What kind of tests?"

"We'll start with an ultra sound and an endoscopy to determine if everything has healed properly… and to pin point any possible leaks."

As the doctor left Neal settled back in bed and almost growling with frustration, glared at the window. He wanted to believe his body would return to normal eventually but… that seemed less likely with every set back. Morbidly he considered the possibility that he might spend the rest of his life in this bed, leaving Will to spend the next fifteen years in the system. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to throw something.

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Natalie Shea did not exist… the information didn't really surprise Diana. It was too much to hope the woman had been stupid enough to use her real name. It did leave the problem of who she was though. Hopefully she had been connected to the kidnapper through the haphazard investigation in DC. Diana pressed speaker and lay her phone aside while she waited for the DCPD cold case evidence clerk to answer the phone.

With Dennison laying low… probably out of the country, the team was back on current cases, firmly inside their area of expertise. There was a rather puzzling potential insurance fraud that landed on her desk this morning… no reason why she couldn't looking over it while she was on hold. She wanted to believe the Washington Police department wasn't purposely giving her the run around but after being transferred to four different offices… she was beginning to have her doubts.

"Good morning. Cold case evidence storage. How may I help you today?" the flat monotone voice that broke into her thoughts two-thirds of the way through the summary of her insurance fraud case, sounded more like a recording than a real person.

"Good morning." She sat up a little straighter "this is Agent Diana Berrigan from the FBI. I am requesting all of the evidence and records regarding the stork kidnappings."

"Authorization?"

"Was faxed to you about an hour ago."

"Oh." The voice was quiet for two seconds "let me see if I received it." Papers rustled on the line. "Here it is. One moment while I determine the location of the evidence in question." The bored voice droned.

"Thank you." She waited… once more on hold, Diana studied the case in front of her as far more than a single moment passed. Finally the line reconnected and the dreary voice asked

"You want all of it? It is a significant amount…"

"Yes I want all of it."

"I will ship it tomorrow."

"That's fine," she muttered impatiently "I am mostly interested in the records… could you email them to me immediately." Silence… several seconds ticked away.

"I suppose." The voice said "why is the FBI looking into this old case anyway… it was local, and thirty years ago." The tone suggested that was a medieval time.

"We found new evidence that suggests it wasn't local." She hedged "get me those files as quickly as possible, please."

Half an hour later she had to concede the bored clerk was efficient. Opening the attachments in the first email she plunged in. Four hours later she had a potential name. Twenty-one year old Katherine Harris had been listed as the suspect, Steve Richard's roommate. Her statement was filled with wide eyed naiveté that sounded false even on paper. No, she had no idea Steve was stealing and murdering children… she was shocked and horrified…sickened by the whole incident.

Diana could picture the woman pressing her hand to her chest and batting her eyes innocently without even knowing what Ms. Harris looked like.

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It was time to clear the air. He could not put it off any longer. Peter knew he needed to talk to Neal, keeping secrets was always what got them into those trust issues that caused trouble. He'd tried to approach the subject for a week now… he still had no idea how to explain what went through his mind at the dock. The image of that moment still haunted him… would always haunt him, but it was made worse by knowing Neal heard him. He swallowed and turned into the room.

Dr. Wilson stood beside the bed with a serious expression. Peter slipped inside and Neal acknowledged him with a quick glance his way before returning his attention to the older man.

"Both the sonogram and the endoscopy are conclusive." The doctor said "your esophagus is almost completely blocked by an abnormal formation of scar tissue."

"Which means…?" Neal sighed "you'll have to remove it, right?"

"Yes." The doctor smiled kindly.

"You're talking about another surgery?" Peter couldn't help adding. The thought of another one made his stomach clench slightly… Neal had been through so many already.

"This is actually a very simple procedure… no external incision required."

"But you'll have to put him under?"

"That would, I think, be more pleasant for everyone." The doctor chuckled

"I second that." Neal agreed and Peter chuckled ruefully despite his worry.

"I'll get Sadie started on getting you ready to go."

"Thanks." Neal smiled brightly as the doctor excused himself but his face fell once they were alone.

"You ok?"

"I'm great." He pasted his brightest smile "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Neal…"

"What?" he kept smiling

"It's ok to not be ok, you know.'

"You worry enough." Neal shrugged "without me falling apart."

"I think you are entitled to a breakdown, or several actually." He gripped the younger man's shoulder gently "you've had a h*** of a month."

"I am really ok." He shrugged "I'm just…"

"Worried?"

"Beginning to think I'll never leave this room." He sighed "I know I'm getting better… but it's just so slow. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been easier if…" he shook his head "if I had …"

"No! You may drive me crazy but trust me no one wants to lose you."

"Are you sure?" there it was, the opening he needed.

"Neal…there's something-."

"I'm sorry Peter," the sturdy motherly nurse interrupted "But there is an opening in the OR in one hour which means I need to ask you to leave while I get him ready."

"But-"

"You will be able to see him as soon as the surgery is finished." She said firmly. Peter sighed and with one last squeeze to his friend's shoulder reluctantly made his exit. There would be a chance to talk about Neal's memory after the operation.


	21. Chapter 21

Katherine Harris moved fifteen times in thetwenty years following her involvement in the kidnapping investigation. She legally changed her name to Katrina Harrison ten years ago and settled down in a little town in Connecticut. Diana had cross referenced her movements with  
unsolved kidnappings or non-agency adoptions. While there were kidnappings… there didn't seem to be any pattern to  
connect them with her… but there was always at least one non agency adoption in each of the small towns where she lived…sometimes more than one, within two months of her arrival. With her name change they stopped.

The drive to Connecticut was quiet… the young agent Diana brought as back up didn't know exactly why they were making the trip and she seemed content to simply wait for orders. As they pulled up in front of the quaint little house Diana frowned. The gingerbread molding and carefully tended flower beds was not what she expected from the description she read of the woman.

A brisk knock brought a sturdy but fit middle aged woman to the door.

" ?" when she looked closely, Diana could see the twenty one year old from the pictures in the file, but it was difficult to imagine this respectable matron as that girl.

"Yes."

"I'm agent Diana Berrigan with the FBI…" she frowned at the frightened expression in the woman's eyes. "I have some questions about your involvement with Steve Richards"

"That monster? They accused him of murdering children. I haven't seen him in-"

"Ten years?" the woman froze "Ms. Harris I know as well as you do he was not a serial killer. He took those babies… and you help him sell them. Sometimes one of you were to rough… that's how those three children died in DC, wasn't it."

"We weren't selling them… we were giving them a better life. We were doing them and their families a favor. At least that's what I believed until…"

"Until?"

"Until my daughter was born." Kathrine dropped her eyes "I held her for the first time and I knew I would do anything for her… anything at all. I started having misgivings about the deal not long after DC but I convinced myself it was better for everyone. Until I looked at Melinda and knew that no parent in their right mind would feel relieved to have their baby taken no matter how low income they were."

"Ms. Harrison you are under arrest for human trafficking…" Diana flicked out her cuffs "You have the right to remain silent-"

"Wait I need to call someone to pick up Melinda from school… please."

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Peter strode out of the building, shifting the bundle of cold cases from his right to left arm as he fished for his keys. Two days after his transfer to the rehab center Neal begged him for some cases he could look through while he recovered. The younger man had grinned when he said he wouldn't want the FBI to decide he wasn't earning his keep, but just the thought that they might do that to his friend made Peter vaguely sick. He sincerely hoped boredom rather than a real concern that he might be sent back to prison to recover drove the request but Peter brought Neal files when he visited every evening. They spent an hour or two going through them together, until the younger man began to droop. Peter took the files with him when he left. An hour was more than enough work in his condition, no matter what Neal thought.

At least the files helped to fill the awkward silences that crept into their conversations occasionally since Neal gave his statement three weeks ago. The vivid but emotionless, almost clinical description of Henry Ridgemont beating and burning his friend, tore at the agent's heart and mind like few things in his career had. Neal's rigidly controlled voice and blank expression as he spoke about those three days told Peter exactly how deeply the incident had affected the younger man. That alone sent shivers down his spine and made it difficult to look Neal in the eye, even harder to know what to say to him… given that so much of his suffering had been on Peter's behalf. Worst of all had been the moment Neal described Ridgemont pressing the gun to his chest… then he met Peter's eyes firmly before looking at the young agent with the recording equipment and said quietly "I don't remember anything after that." If they had been alone Peter would have called him on the lie, but that conversation wasn't one he really felt they could have in front of an audience.

Peter sighed at the memory. After hearing the account… He couldn't bring himself to mention Neal's dream. It wasn't fair to drag up his friend's pain just to ease his own conscience.

"Peter?" He spun around as the familiar voice startled him back to the present.

"You could just walk into my office, you know." He told the figure leaning quietly against the thick pillar.

"Now what would be the fun in that?" Kevin Grant grinned at him, pushing himself away from the concrete.

"Sneaking up on me is fun for you?" he shook his head at the mischievous glint in those blue eyes "don't answer that" the younger man chuckled "I assume there is a reason you are back." Peter said sharply.

"There is."

"There better be." He glared at those blue eyes. "I thought you wanted to bring Dennison down… then you disappear for five weeks… not a word."

"I do have a job to do."

"I'm sorry… I do know that."

"I'm here now." Kevin said quietly "and I do want to bring him down."

"He fled the country, you know."

"He didn't flee, exactly… more like laying low until the FBI stopped digging."

"You know this because…?" he looked closer at the young man. Kevin looked …worn. That was the only word that seemed to fit as Peter looked him over. Maybe he hadn't just walked away and forgot the issue after all.

"You wanted evidence…" he pulled a thumb drive from his coat and extended it wearily. "I got you evidence." Taking the device Peter met the kid's eyes.

"You have evidence of Dennison's involvement in kidnapping and murder."

"There's an audio file on there you should listen to." Kevin smiled tiredly.

"You got a confession?" Peter's face turned doubtful "Is it admissible in court."

"The file was acquired during an official undercover assignment."

"Your bosses are going after Dennison too?"

"I didn't say he was the target of the assignment." The young man shrugged again. "He has some very unsavory clients…"

"But you went undercover inside his organization? They didn't recognize you?"

"I'm very good at blending in." he shrugged "dark contacts… blonde highlights…"

"Of course you are." He frowned, refraining from commenting on how risky that was. After all Kevin was not his responsibility

"While I was under I heard a rumor that Dennison and Ridgemont are coming back to New York now that the bureau has lost interest in the case."

"I haven't lost interest."

"That's good because he may be inclined to finish what he started… your consultant surviving and not returning the card hasn't been good for his reputation."

"You think he will go after Neal again?" of course they would.

"Let's say the thought has probably crossed his mind." Silence filled the air, reverberating with that dark prospect. Kevin cleared his throat. "How is Amelia's son?"

"William? In temporary foster care."

"Oh."

"He's yours, you know" Peter's words made the young man swallow hard

"I figured, but I'm not really parent material… the job… not exactly conducive to family ties." Peter waited quietly before he continued.

"Of course the DNA test also said he was Neal's" he waited a moment for that news to sink in… it only took a moment for the brilliant mind to fit the pieces together, driving the color from the young man's cheeks.

"Does he know?"

"Neal? Yeah I told him when the results came in." Peter watched Kevin study his shoes, struggling to regain control "did you know?"

"I knew I was adopted… I knew my parent's housekeeper told me I cried for my "bubba" the first two months I lived with them… But a twin?" He shrugged, looking up his expression contained again. "Though when I saw him…" he laughed softly "I guess I should have figured it out, but my birth mother told my parents my brother died so…" Kevin fell quiet again. He turned to go.

"Kevin, he still wants to see you." Peter said quietly, the young man looked back, grief and regret in his eyes for a fraction of a moment.

"I'm still not sure that's a good idea." His expression was neutral again

"Just once, that's all I'm asking"

"Trust me he's better off without me."

"He just wants to meet you… you're his family. And that's something you're both a little short on."

"I'll think about it" Kevin conceded

"Thanks." Peter accepted. More silence as the young man seemed torn for a moment

"I want in when you take down Dennison." Peter understood that desperate look…had seen it before.

"I'll see what I can do." He watched the younger man a moment considering, the kid needed something to think about besides what he had lost "I could use your help keeping Neal safe."

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He pushed the bowl of potato soup away after only a few bites. The nurse would scold him when she came for the tray, reminding him he would never get rid of the gastric tube if he didn't start eating but...even after two surgeries to clear the scar tissue that blocked it, swallowing still hurt his damaged esophagus, and the soup just really wasn't worth the effort. Reaching for the pencil and sketch book laying on the table Neal adjusted his position carefully. Most of the pain had faded, though there were still moments that caught him off guard and took his breath away. Which reminded him… he quickly ran through the breathing exercises the respiratory therapist taught him. He was slowly learning to breathe again. The thought of no longer needing oxygen soon, made him smile.

Drawing the scene outside his window quietly, he flexed his toes in a slow, steady repetition though it still sent agony though his burnt feet and ankles to move them. The physical therapist said he was doing great… declaring optimistically "we will have you back on your feet in no time!" Six weeks seemed like a lot of time to Neal to have only regained minimal movement in his feet and none in his legs but he kept quiet and clenched and relaxed his toes as often as possible.

With his body busy, his mind wandered. He had **_that_** dream again. It was ridiculous that of all the nightmares he had about those three days that one was the one that haunted him the most. It didn't frighten him the way it once had to hear his friend tell the younger agent to stop. He remembered more details in the dream now… the soft whistle of the wind, the ice on the wood beneath his own still body, the water dripping from his friend's hair and the despair in Peter's voice… "Davis, stop… just stop… Please" the older man said softly "he's gone… Let him rest." The dream was not frightening in the same way… but it was still deeply disturbing for very different reasons, now that he was no longer drugged… the scene was eerily reminiscent of William's mother, Amelia, lying cold and lifeless on the dock… he shuttered. Knowing that his condition was so bad that even Peter, stubborn as he was, thought there was no chance of saving him, was terrifying. The fact that he was standing behind his friend…watching the scene play out was unnerving…. He wished he didn't remember… wished he could forget, like he had forgotten so much of that day.

Part of him wanted to talk to Peter about it, wondered if his friend regretted that moment, if he even remembered saying it. He considered mentioning it when he gave his statement, but Peter's tense shoulders and dark expression as he described the events of his captivity, killed the words in his throat. Obviously being so powerless to fix the situation hurt his friend deeply and there was no reason to make him feel worse. That was three weeks ago and they hadn't talked about what happened since. He knew why, it was a difficult subject to approach and attempts from both sides had ended in awkward silences, but he wished he could tell Peter he didn't blame him for giving up. He really didn't, though he had never been so grateful for insubordination in his life, he definitely needed to do something to should his gratitude to Davis. Maybe Jones or Diana knew what sort of gesture would be most appreciated by the young agent.

Lost in thought and his drawing he didn't even hear his door open, until she spoke.

"Mr. Caffrey?" Miranda Wallace said softly. Her whole demeanor toward him had changed since the DNA test revealed he wasn't the only paternal match for Will. "How are you feeling today? Up to talking business?" he lay aside his drawing, giving her his attention.

"You have news? How is Will?" he asked quickly, thinking of his tiny nephew in foster care for the last four weeks.

"He was doing well when I checked on him yesterday."

"Do you think I could see him?" The last time he clearly remembered seeing the little boy, the child had a gun pressed to his head.

"I think that can be arranged, I have news…" Miranda smiled "the judge was somewhat reluctant to grant custody given your circumstances…"she was very careful not to look at his broken body "but that lawyer of yours is… surprisingly capable." He couldn't suppress a chuckle. Yes Mozzie was very capable… and probably extremely passionate in family court.

"He is easy to underestimate."

'That he is." She smiled "the judge finally conceded that since you are the minor's uncle and with his mother dead and his father…unavailable, once you are physically able to care for yourself and a small child, he's all yours… until such time as his father files a protest."

"If his father wants to claim him, I won't fight his claim, but I don't think he's much interested in family." His voice fell sadly, betraying how much he wished his brother was interested, despite his efforts to stay in control. "When can he come out of the system? I have several friends who would be willing to take care of him until I can leave the rehab center."

"Mr. Caffrey I think it is probably in your best interest to focus on your recovery at this point rather than worrying about the care of a toddler."

"But I'm going to worry about him either way."

"I suppose you will" she smiled again "I'll see what can be arranged."

"Thanks."

As she walked away Neal grinned. He knew very little about raising children but his nephew wasn't going to grow up alone, drifting from foster home to foster home. He was drifting off to sleep when his door opened abruptly and Peter stepped into the room with a purposeful step and a worried look, trailing nurses and therapists in his wake.

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The confession Kevin recorded was unsettling… given without a hint of remorse or emotion of any sort.

As Peter listened to the file, Dennison's client questioned the reliability of the information offered "Given the organization's recent security issues."

"Ms. Woodbridge and Mr. Scott have been dealt with. The situation is controlled." Dennison said blandly.

"I heard Scott survived and he didn't return the stolen device."

"I assure you, my friend… though his body survived Mr. Ridgemont is extremely good at what he does… I ordered him to break the man. There is assuredly nothing left of Mr. Scott's mind but a cowering puddle." Peter couldn't resist a derisive snort at the man's over confidence, suddenly grateful he hadn't been present for the conversation.

"I will take your word for it. Mr. Dennison" the client's voice suggested he was being magnanimous "This time. I trust there will be no more issues."

"There will not be" Peter could hear the man smile coldly "and don't worry. Whatever is left of Mr. Scott… will only continue to breathe until my business here allows me to return to New York." As soon the recording ended the agent was on his feet.

"Jones! Diana! We need eyes on the airport! Dennison is on his way back into the country!" he paused to draw a breath.

"What's going on?" Jones asked

"I have Dennison on tape. He's coming after Neal. I need to know as soon as his feet touch New York soil."

"I'll do my best."

"Diana I need you to set up the safe house… keep it close to your breast. This guy deals in information, I'm sure he has at least one leak in the Bureau."

"Where are you going, boss?" she called after him

"To give Neal a head's up and arrange his transfer."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Hello Peter" Neal grinned broadly at his friend's agitated state "got a hot case for me today?" Peter frowned and Neal noticed his hands were empty.

"Neal, we need to get you out of here." He announced without preamble.

"Well I'm all for that." He chuckled "this place is getting old, but I think your friends there might disagree." Several heads nodded adamantly, several mouths opened to protest. Peter took a deep breath and spoke in a calmer tone.

"We need to move you to a safe house for a few days… Dennison and Ridgemont are back in town. They feel you hurt their reputation, Neal." Neal shuttered slightly at the mention of the big man who took such pleasure in hurting him. The thought of Ridgemont coming after him again was not a pleasant one.

"But Agent Burke" one of the nurses protested "He still needs specialized care that your agents are not trained to provide." Neal's fingers found the feeding tube absently.

"Peter maybe she's right…" he sighed "I mean…" he gestured to his body gloomily.

"You are a mess." His friend managed a little chuckle but it quickly turned to a frown "but you're alive… and I plan to keep you that way. Diana is arranging for a private nurse as we speak."

"Maybe you should have mentioned that at the beginning. It might have prevented everyone considerable stress." Neal grinned broadly, nodding to the exasperated expressions around them. He was already adjusting in the bed, preparing to leave.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Kevin found himself walking along the dock staring out over the water… this was the place. The police report said this was the dock where two boaters found her, floating against one of the pillars supporting the pier. He walked to the end and looked into the dark, oily water trying not to think of the crime scene photos… of her bruised broken body, lying right here… in this spot. He tried to force his mind to think of her in London, laughing, swirling away in and out of the fog, in Barcelona lying on the sun-warm sand in the cool evening air, but the memories seemed to slip through the grasping fingers of his mind. Stepping back from the edge he knelt on the damp salt-crusted planks. He wasn't sure what he was looking for… some sign, some trace of his Amelia.

Kevin shook his head, he wasn't supposed to get so attached. He was supposed to be able to let people go with ease. It came with the job, people flitting in and out of his life, but it was more than that… a promise he made long ago. Amelia changed that, and that was a terrible mistake.

His thoughts shifted as his gaze slid along the river. There… he could just catch a glimpse of the place he almost lost his brother too… though… Kevin sighed, he would have never known he had a brother if the other man hadn't survived

A brother… an identical twin brother… it was a novel concept. He wondered if they had anything in common besides their face. He knew nothing about Neal except he was a consultant for the FBI. He could have found out more, much more if he looked, Kevin was certain of that, but he couldn't… wouldn't learn about his brother from a computer screen. Of course, that meant he would never know because he promised… and Amelia just reminded him why. It was for the best.

He would just make sure he was safe from Dennison and his people before he left town. He got his brother into this mess… he would make sure he survived it. It couldn't hurt to keep an eye on him until the arrests had been made… could it? One meeting… He asked for one meeting… Kevin sighed, it was a bad idea, a terrible stupid idea but… one meeting wasn't getting attached…it wasn't.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

 **Hope everyone is still enjoying this.**


	22. Chapter 22

The safe house was quiet. After nearly two months of institutional rustle and flurry, between the hospital and the rehab center, the little, decidedly modest townhouse was too quiet. The bed was considerably more comfortable than the hospital beds he had resided in for seven long weeks and after all the effort and pain that came with moving him here Neal had drifted off almost immediately after being settled into it.

The quiet woke him. The room he barely took in when he arrived was lost in shadows. Soft moon light filtered in from the high windows dancing with the darkness. The windows were the reason they chose this room for him… letting in natural light without offering a clear line of sight to his level. Pushing the thought of snipers away he watched the silent play of light and shadow flutter across the floor brushing a shoe… definitely out of place

Neal froze… it's probably one of the agents from the protection detail he told himself firmly.

"Who's there?"

The figure remained silent but he took a single step forward. The light from the window flowed over half a face leaving the other side in deep shadow… Neal stared a long moment at his reflection. A thousand questions fought for recognition "How did you get in here? Why are you here? What do you want?

"So CIA huh?" actually found its way to his lips as he studied the man standing half in light and half in darkness… the perfect image of his own life. It would be an interesting painting… the dichotomy of a man…

"Yeah…" the silence was awkward

"Interesting job?"

"Sometimes."

"Probably not like the movies, right?"

"Not quite" Kevin finally smiled

"Not a lot of breaking into places and cracking safes to get secret files?"

"Never been very good at cracking safes," He smirked slightly making the shadows on his face twist a little bit "but I may have taken down a few security systems and I've never met a fire wall that I couldn't crack."

"I could help you with your safe problem." Neal offered lightly, Kevin's expression instantly slammed closed. That sounded like he wanted them to stay in contact.

"I don't think that's a good idea." His soft tone took some of the edge off the sharp words. The quiet hung over them like a too heavy blanket for several moments.

"I'm glad you came." Neal almost whispered the peace offering into the tension

"This is a bad idea Neal… it won't happen again. It **_can't_** happen again." Kevin's voice was strangled as he thought "Because I won't let you end up like Amelia" it had already come to close to that.

"Ok" Neal forced the word out… he understood even if he did hope for more. It was stupid to think Kevin would want to associate with his criminal brother.

"Why did you want to meet me?"

"You can't figure that one out?"

"Curiosity?"

"Yeah…" Neal smiled "that and you're family."

Kevin flinched, his promises to himself and his parents floating through his mind again. He couldn't let himself get close… to many people had already paid for getting to close to him.

"Family is a luxury that is frowned on in my business." Kevin's words were matter of fact but Neal sighed… especially family of an unsavory nature… he thought.

"Mine too" Neal smiled knowingly, clinging to hope that maybe he misread his brother's reluctance, Kevin was as hard to read as he was himself… and then he knew, in an instant. "Attachments are dangerous but… they are hard to live without." Kevin's laugh was brief and humorless.

"But we get used to it, don't we?" he stepped forward… his expression tight with just the faintest hint of … grief? Longing?

"We do." The sadness of that ached in Neal's chest… he'd had a lifetime to get used to it… but the longing still lingered, was it possible Kevin felt that yearning too? "And then someone comes along and you get caught up in the moment and you forget why it is dangerous." He tried just once more.

"To our regret." His tone echoed through Neal's mind.

"Sometimes." He sighed and looked his reflection over "Amelia was one of those someone's wasn't she." Kevin's expression didn't flicker but his breath caught for just the hint of a moment.

"I never should have let her get so close." Staring up into eyes so like his own… not just in color and shape but that reflected his own fears and griefs was startling for Neal but he raised a hand to touch his brother… just this once, dropping his hand on the other man's arm.

"She didn't die because of you"

"You don't know that." His eyes shimmered with tears that he blinked away. "She was here… in the states… she tried to come to me…"

"She said she was on vacation. She saw the threat and chose to get involved."

"She always did." Memory glowed in his eyes "She was so good at what we do. It shouldn't have ended like that… not because of some information broker. She was better than that." Why am I telling him this, Kevin thought, I'm never this open… no one reads me like this.

"Everyone slips… even the best get caught sometimes." Neal said ruefully

"I know." And if it were just Amelia he might have believed him. "I'm sorry Neal… I have to go."

"Already?"

"It's for the best." He turned away, he was protecting his brother... his brother that he would never really know because Neal could read him like no one ever could after just a few minutes… and that… that was dangerously near the edge of to close.

"I suppose it is" he told himself he could live with another family member leaving him behind, but the ache tore at his heart… even worse he saw it reflected in Kevin's eyes. He knew… somehow he knew how much this hurt. The people who could read him that way were few and far between but Kevin knew… and he was still going to walk away.

"You take care of yourself." Was that a hint of pleading in my voice the agent wondered?

"I will…" Neal watched him lay his hand on the door knob… "I'll take care of Will to if you don't want to… he's family too." He was assuring… promising because Kevin was family and Neal knew… he just knew he wasn't leaving to hurt him, he honestly thought he was protecting him and that hurt more than any betrayal.

"I appreciate that… he needs a stable home." Something Kevin couldn't give him.

"Not sure how stable I am… but hopefully I'm a little better than foster care."

Kevin dropped his eyes and was silent for so long Neal wondered if Kevin would actually be able to walk away because he is hesitating …the tension dripping off his shoulders like a cape. He wanted so desperately to stay, to be a father and brother… a family.

"I wish things could be different… I really do, but I made a promise Neal… to my parents." he sighed… almost a shutter really "and I can't break it again." His eyes pleaded for understanding.

"That promise…" Neal pushed himself up as far as he could, and offered as much empathy as he had. "You made it when they died?"

"I have to go… I'm sorry" Fear spiked through him, Neal was to close… in one visit he was already too close. Kevin turned and vanished silently into the shadows like a ghost.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

It was early when he woke, the grey predawn light filtering through the window told him that. The younger agents keeping watch nodded at him as Peter slipped into the small kitchen for a glass of water. Walking back to the bedroom where he slept, he caught the soft murmur of Neal's voice... after almost a week of spending his nights in the safe house, he knew that nightmares are still common for his friend… but he doesn't wake him… doesn't mention the times he cries out in his sleep. Yesterday he caught a kid laughing about it, a junior agent from another division, no more than twenty six, making comments… joking about what a coward they are babysitting, to another kid who didn't know better than to listen. The urge to tear into him rose in the older man's throat but he choked it back… with tremendous effort and keeping his voice carefully calm he ask… politely, for the young man to desist or remove himself from the detail.

Yes, he knew about the nightmares, **and** Neal's need to not fall apart in front of anyone, so he let it slide, but standing just outside the door he heard the soft words "please…I'm still here"… the frightened gasp, the ragged breathing as Neal turned on the bedside lamp. Peter sighed and knocked gently on the door frame. It was time to talk… no more excuses.

"Mind if I come in?"

The younger man shook his head and offered a wavery smile, but said nothing.

"You ok?" he tried again.

"Yeah… I'm fine." He shifted his feet under the blanket slightly and the older man struggled not to focus on how good it was to see that tiny movement.

"Sounded like some dream."

"But just a dream Peter, nothing to worry about."

"You have them a lot?"

"Sometimes." He shrugged, dropping his eyes.

"You know, I think nightmares are…" the agent stepped farther into the room "I'm not an expert in psychology but I think nightmares are probably to be expected… considering."

"Yeah." Neal looks up at him, a self-conscious smile playing at his lips. "Probably, but…"his gaze fell again.

"Doesn't make them any more pleasant, does it?" he smiled at the younger man's small derisive laugh. He took a deep breath and plunged in… "Was it the one about me… at the dock?" the blue eyes that snapped to his face radiated defensiveness and shock. Neal's shook his head in denial, drew a slow ragged breath and then sighed.

"How do you know?"

"I wasn't eavesdropping on purpose… but I overheard you and Diana, a while ago."

"Oh."

"I wish she hadn't told you to keep it from me."

"You do? She thought it would upset you… you have enough to deal with in all this mess."

"You were the one who was tortured… for my name. Your mental health is probably more important."

"How do you know about that?"

"Franks told me… he didn't know I was your boss."

"Oh." The young man closed his eyes "I'm sorry I remember… I know this has been hard for you too."

"Neal" he took a deep breath and released it slowly "I don't know why you remember that… I'm fairly certain I don't want to know ** _how_** you remember it… but I want to be clear. Diana was right, I do not want you to die."

"I know.' Neal smiled easily "too much paper work."

"Yeah…right." he swallowed and shook his head "you're my friend… one of my best friends. That day at the dock… when I …It wasn't because I wanted them to… I just thought… I thought you were already… that we were too late."

"I know." Neal shifted uncomfortably "I figured that out a while ago."

"You did? But you still have the dream?"

"There are plenty of reasons for it to be…" he shrugged, leaving the sentence hanging. "I looked that bad, huh?"

"yeah, pretty much" Peter kept his voice light, despite the vivid image of his friend lying utterly still, ice forming on his cold white skin that floated to his mind… the bullet wound that only bled when Davis' hands compressed the still chest. The sharp snap of his breast bone breaking under the pressure… and the absolute lack of response to the pain that should have caused.

"I'm sorry… you're not one to give up easily so I must have…" his voice ended with a sharp swallow.

"I shouldn't have given up on you. I know you're tougher than you look, that impossible is your specialty… h*** I told myself all of that but… you weren't responding and I saw that bullet wound and…" he shuttered slightly at the memories

"It's ok…" he met the older man's eyes firmly "it really is. I get it… you didn't want me to suffer, and I appreciate that."

"Really?" the relief was a tangible thing

"Really." He grinned "you're off the hook." Peter chuckled "obviously I'm glad Davis decided to be insubordinate but…"

'Me too." Peter smiled "he looked me right in the eye and said 'with all due respect sir. No' and even at the time I was glad he did."

"Brave… defying the boss like that."

"It will definitely be mentioned in his yearly review." He smiled then sighed "it still scares you that I gave up on you." It was a statement not a question.

"Not that you gave up exactly… but that I was that close to… that I was in a condition you felt like there was no…hope" he choke a bit on the confession.

"You were in bad shape" Peter admitted "for a while actually… the doctors weren't really encouraging the first few days… but you made it. That's what matters"

"I did." He grinned "now if we can avoid a repeat performance…"

"That would be good."

"We need to draw them out."

"What are you thinking?"

"Are you still in contact with Kevin?"

"Yeah, he wants to take Dennison down as much as I do."

"Good, call him… and Mozzie. I have a plan. We have work to do."

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Elizabeth startled. Lost in her work on her laptop, the knock surprised her. She wasn't expecting anyone this morning. With Peter spending his nights away and the young agent he left to protect her presumably still sleeping in her guest room upstairs she had pulled out her computer to get a jump on her day. Carefully she set her coffee cup on the table and moved to her front door. A quick peak through the curtain left her even more confused. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the knob… while she didn't fear any physical harm from the young woman outside she could not think of a single reason Miranda Wallace would be standing on her door step at 6:45 am. She swallowed, had Miranda's superior decided to go ahead with the kidnapping charges after all? Worse, had something happened to William?

"Miss Wallace?"

"Mrs. Burke." They stood there awkwardly eyeing each other for a moment. Their first and only meeting had not been pleasant.

"Can I help you?" Elizabeth broke the silence with a coldly polite tone.

"I certainly hope so." Miss Wallace shuffled the papers in her hand thoughtfully "I have a court order here… somewhere… requesting…"

"I assume if you came to arrest me you have a warrant and a police escort?"

"Arrest you? Why would I…. oh! No I actually have a court order to temporarily grant you and your husband custody of William Woodbridge… per his uncle's request via his lawyer."

"You are here too… Mozzie told you to give him to us?"

"Mr. Haversham….?"

"Yes." Elizabeth stared at the woman in disbelief.

"You know him? Yes he was quite insistent that until his client was capable of caring for the boy the child be placed with caregivers of Mr. Caffrey's own choosing. Given that the boy's uncle has potentially long term custody pending a six month observation period of course the judge agreed. I will need to inspect the property of course but that is mostly a formality at this point."

"You're bringing Will back?"

"He is being picked up from his foster home as we speak… shall we begin the inspection?"

The next two hours were lost a whirlwind of activity papers to sign and preparations… it seemed she barely blinked before a cab pulled up outside and second social worker was greeting Miss Wallace and William… was falling into her arms with a worried expression.

"Wizbet… can I stay?" the little boy asked his thumb finding his mouth and his worn bear clutched under his arm as both child advocates stepped into the waiting cab "Can I weally stay?"

"Of course you can sweetie."

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"No." Peter rose from the table in a single rushed movement "absolutely not!"

"It's a good plan… "Neal tried to keep his voice rational but it rose despite his efforts "I've thought it out and it is the best way to get Ridgemont and Dennison at the same time."

"You've thought it out?" the older man stared at him in disbelief "you want to contact them and basically say here I am come and kill me."

"No, I want to use my contacts to let Ridgemont think I have the card back, and to convince Dennison that Ridgemont is selling him out. Ridgemont will come for the card and his boss will come for him and you will come for both of them." Peter threw his hands up and shook his head as he turned away.

"It does sound a bit … suicidal" Mozzie added sagely

"It wouldn't be… I would have back up."

"Who couldn't get there in time to prevent Henry Ridgemont from putting a bullet in your head?" Diana sided with Peter too.

"You guys have no faith in my ability to stall?" He shook his head

"It's not that we doubt your skills," Jones said softly "but you are just a little bit off your game right now."

"A little off his game." Peter laughed humorlessly "he can't even stand up."

"Mozzie could put out the rumors… I'd only have to keep Ridgemont talking long enough for you to arrest him."

"No. This plan is not happening… we are not even considering using you as bait right now. You just aren't up to it."

"What about me?" the five of them turned to look as Kevin strode into the room. "I could pass as Neal… and I am far from defenseless." Jones startled slightly… despite all the talk of a double, clearly he hadn't quite expected the eerie resemblance. Diana sat back and studied the young man… wondering if it was possible he remembered anything about the kidnapping. Peter grinned reflexively, Neal offered a welcoming wave and Mozzie… Mozzie sprung from his chair and scuttled across the room to press his back to the wall before he turned to face the apparition.

"Neal?" he managed, glancing from his friend to his apparent reflection.

"Relax Moz" he grinned "Kevin is… or used to be my brother."

"You never mentioned a brother."

"But I did mention Will's mother mistaking me for someone."

"That's true." He stepped forward slightly "are you sure he's your brother?"

"I am" Diana offered "Kevin David Grant was born Nicholas Geoffrey Bennett, before he was kidnapped in July of '84."

"So unless human cloning was perfected thirty years ago… you can relax Moz."

"I can accept he is your brother, maybe… that doesn't mean I can trust him. He is… you know what he is."

"I do" Neal chuckled openly "be nice. He carries a gun, you know."

"Who in your family doesn't?" he muttered but he slid back into his seat.

Kevin settled into a chair at the table and glanced around at the group.

"I always pictured FBI investigations were more paperwork and procedures and involved a lot more people… not so covert." His grin was openly curious

"They usually are." Neal offered "But an information dealer like Dennison would know if a full scale FBI operation was being prepared to set him up… in this case smaller is better, right Peter." He grinned.

"Smaller is better" the older man conceded "but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you set yourself up as bait when you can still barely move your legs."

"But we have Kevin."

"But you have me." The two spoke simultaneously, eliciting chuckles from their audience and a stunned silence from both young men.

"Great minds… right?" Neal smirked at last and Kevin returned his amused expression.

"Devious minds is more like it." Diana said, hiding her amusement with a scowl.

"Of course." Kevin met her gaze "all great minds should be at least a little devious don't you think?" she shook her head

"Exactly what we need" Jones muttered "Two of Caffrey."

"I think it is actually." Kevin looked at him. "Neal's plan is pretty good…with the obvious flaw that he is not capable…" he glanced at his brother "at this moment of carrying it out. On the other hand I have considerable training for … difficult… situations and am in excellent health."

"I don't know" Peter hesitated "what will your boss have to say."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Kevin shrugged.

"But it may hurt my people."

"As long as it works he won't care."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll probably be dead and he won't bother you." His quiet declaration sent a shiver down the spines around the table

"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely" Kevin's eyes were ice cold and hard as steel "I would do anything to take Dennison and his organization down."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Peter sighed, running his hand through his hair distractedly. "But we do need to draw him out. You're sure he's back in the city? That Ridgemont is with him."

"Yes." Kevin said with certainty.

"Nothing stupid? You will take reasonable precautions?"

"I will be careful." He visibly restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

"Fine. Haversham…do your thing."

The small man glanced at Neal annoyed despite his nervousness. "What do you want me to put out the Mon frère?"

"That Michael Scott might be willing to hand over the memory card in exchange for his life…make sure that gets to Ridgemont…Then it would be good if Dennison got the distinct impression that his right hand thug planned to turn states evidence… or better yet was selling privileged information on the side."

"I see what I can do. It will take a few days." he cast an anxious glance around the room, then exited hastily.


	23. Chapter 23

Ending her call Diana stepped back into the small living room and stopped. Neal sat quietly, his head down, her file on Katherine Harris in his lap. He glanced up when she entered the room, grinning sheepishly.

"What do you think you are doing?" she snapped, snatching the folder.

"I was bored… and curious. You have been hiding that file every time I come in the room for three days."

"So now you know."

"You really think she's the one who took Kevin… well Nick back then..."

"No, I don't." Diana conceded "But I know she was the one who sold him to the Grants… Well adopted as far as they knew. She gave them a sob story about her boyfriend and her other son being killed in a house fire. They gave her 80,000 dollars to help her get back on her feet."

"Pretty good scam. I assume she was splitting it with the actual kidnapper but forty grand in the eighties was a pretty good take…" He glanced at Diana with a sad smile "If you don't mind destroying families."

"They didn't see it that way… they were redistributing babies from families that didn't need them to couples who did… and could pay for them."

"Right."

"Look Caffrey I wasn't really hiding it from you… I've been working on this for a while and I had every intention of telling you..." She sighed "I just hoped to catch the kidnapper before I did."

"Kidnapping isn't really your area."

"Human trafficking has a white collar side…"

"Human trafficking involves more than one kid."

"They took twelve babies from the DC area that year. They called them the stork kidnappings because the man left origami storks in each baby's crib." Neal's face blanched.

"Twelve?" Neal choked, his expression pure horror.

"Well thirteen actually… but no one ever reported the last one missing." She flinched as she said that. "They sold nine of them."

"I don't want to know about the other four do I…?"

"No." She thought about the crime scene photos from the storage locker where the tiny bodies had been kept, the black garbage bags and packing tape… she cut her mind off right there because if she went any farther she would be sick. "Trust me you don't… let just say they were handled to roughly." She watched Neal's imagination fill in the details and he swallowed quickly several times before he met her eyes.

"And no one has caught these monsters."

"Until now."

"Do you think she…?" He gestured to the picture in the file.

"I don't think she was the one who killed them… but she knew about it and didn't stop her partner."

"Is she willing to talk?"

"Yeah she is… but it's been a long time. I don't know if she has anything useful to give us."

"Here's hoping."

"I'm going to get this guy, Neal, I promise."

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He sat alone in his room… the setting sun cast little light through the high windows but Neal had yet to turn on the lights. His deft fingers folded the paper without thought…

His mother always kept a small paper stork on the book case in her room… she never let him touch it. Through every move over the years it always found its place. Even the two times they rushed out of the house with only two suit cases and Danny's backpack… the stork always made the cut to come. It was ragged and dirty and the boy he once was couldn't see the value of the stupid thing but his mom loved it… took it down and held it in her hands reverently sometimes.

When he first discovered origami at ten years old he decided to make her a new one… since the old one looked ready to fall apart. The boy handed his mother his gift and waited, hoping for a rare smile. Instead her face bleached through white into grey. Her lips compressed into a hard cold line and she slapped him, hard enough to knock him down. He stared up at her in shock, his mother ignored him most of the time… forgot he was there in her haze of painkillers and sedatives, but she rarely struck him, watched sadly as she crumbled his little gift and threw it violently at the wall before stalking out of the house without saying a word.

"Neal?" Jones voice called him back to the present. "What are you doing?"

"What?"

"What are you doing?" the agent gestured to the dozen paper birds that surrounded the young man on the bed.

"Oh." Neal briefly closed his eyes "just trying to master a new one." He smiled at his friend. "I've never folded storks."

"Well come on" Jones said doubtfully "dinner is here."

"Thanks … I'll be right there." He stared a moment longer at the birds… quietly finishing the thirteenth… one for every family that was never whole again… even if they found them now, even if they brought them all home like Nick… the families would still be broken. Arresting the man who tore their lives apart wouldn't change that…but maybe it would help. One by one Neal lifted the birds gently and sat them on the night stand before he slid into his chair.

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"You don't have to do this, you know." Neal looked up as Kevin entered the room.

"I'm pretty much committed, I think." His grin so perfectly reflected Neal's own it should have been disturbing.

"You could still walk away." Neal met his eyes and resolutely kept the pleading note out of his voice. "I could meet Ridgemont."

"Michael Scott is my alias."

"I used him for three days."

"And that worked out so well for you." He nodded toward the wheelchair.

"I'll recover."

"Not if you meet with Ridgemont." Kevin pulled a dining chair away from the table and sank into it. "Your boss wouldn't allow it anyway. I get the feeling he would shoot me personally if I backed out… I know Diana would. That woman is scary."

"She definitely can be." He returned the grin this time

"Why don't you want me to do this?"

"Because I'm tired of hurting people I care about!" The words were out before he could stop them. Neal risked a glimpse at his brother and flinched at his shocked expression. It was too much… it didn't matter that the connection between them had been instantaneous… that he knew the affection he felt was returned. Kevin wouldn't understand that he didn't mean to keep hurting people… wouldn't care.

"You too…?" the strangled voice startled Neal from his thoughts. The words were not the reaction he expected.

"What do you mean, me too?"

"People around you get hurt no matter how hard you try to prevent it?"

"Yeah." Neal swallowed his own shock and confusion "You?"

"My best friend in school almost died trying to follow me when I did something stupid, my parents died… their brake line was cut. I could never prove it but I knew it was because I refused to hack the system and change the football player's grades… several partners on assignment have been hurt or killed, because I made a mistake. Now Amelia is dead, William is alone and you were tortured… you have the same problem?

"Kate was my Amelia, I watched her die and there was nothing I could do… Ellen practically raised me, she was murdered because I contacted her… Elizabeth, Peter's wife she was kidnapped because of me… Mozzie… the little guy was shot… Peter was framed for murder, by our dad." He let the silence fall between them, let it stretch as they simply understood.

"How do you do it?" Kevin's too steady voice asked "How do you keep letting people get close…knowing how much it hurts?"

"Because the alternative is being alone." Neal shrugged helplessly "and being alone makes you hard… cold." He blinked tears away quickly.

"In my business hard and cold are a plus on your resume…"

"They were in mine too…It might have been best for everyone if I could have been, but I never wanted to be."

"Me either."

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"No"

"But" Neal tried to explain.

"The answer is no." Peter glared at him "you agreed to Kevin playing you. You are not going to this meeting with Ridgemont."

"I know I agreed I'm not trying to change the plan, if you would just listen."

"You don't want to go to the meeting?"

"I want to go to the meeting-"

"Then the answer is still no."

"I want to be in the van."

"No…" he stopped as his friend's last words registered "you WANT to be in the van? You hate the van. You are always telling me how bad it smells and how boring it is."

"You're sending my brother undercover with an extremely dangerous mountain of muscle. Yes I want to be in the van so I can-"

"Watch over him?"

"Well… yeah."

"Neal, he is a highly trained federal agent, he is your match for brains and charm and our whole team will be watching over him… He will be ok. And you can't even stand yet."

"I know that but he's my brother and…" Neal shrugged

"You just met him." his words stung but Neal couldn't really explain it himself How could he expect Peter to understand.

"I know… Peter I…" he took a breath, released it and tried again. "I have never connected with someone … really connected like this in my life…" to his surprise the agent laughed quietly.

"It's a twin thing." he muttered

"What?"

"I had a couple friends when I was a kid, twins, they always knew… it was like they could read each other's mind. If one of them got hurt… they didn't even have to be together the other just knew. If you asked them about it they always said "it's a twin thing" I didn't even think about that with you and Kevin but…"

"All I know is I don't want anything to happen to him." Neal let the silence fall. The discussion was over and he knew when to give in, so he bit his tongue and started to turn away.

"Neal" Peter sighed at the honest concern in his friend's eyes. "I can't let you come on the operation…I would if I could, but in your condition… we would both be out of a job… and for you that means… Please, trust me to take care of Kevin."

"I do trust you." He tried to smile "It's just… he's my brother. I just got him back…"

"I know." He lay his hand on Neal's shoulder "I know. And you have every right to be worried, but you have to promise me you'll stay here, because I can't take care of Kevin if you give me a heart attack." That coaxed a smile out of the younger man.

"You'll keep me in the loop?"

"I will let you know about every development, I promise."

"Can I move closer…?"

"I'll see if Diana can set you up in a room on the block but you will have to stay inside, away from the windows." He gave the younger man a stern look "do I need to assign an agent to make sure you stay put, if I do this?"

"No… I'll stay until you say I can come out."

"You're going to follow orders?"

"I wouldn't get used to it if I were you." The blue eyes that looked up at him finally sparkled.

"Don't worry, it doesn't happen often enough for that."

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Sitting on his favorite bench at the park the small man closed his eyes. Four days and nights of trying to insure his rumors reached the right ears had left him exhausted but now, just three hours ago he received word that everything was in place and Dennison was suitably angry with his lieutenant. Mozzie grinned… these idiots were falling into place like perfectly placed dominos.

He felt some one join him on the bench. Annoyed he opened his eyes. It took a tremendous effort not to jump out of the seat and run. James Dennison sat quietly beside him.

"You've been talking about my employees… where did you get your information?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Certain rumors have reach my ears… I have traced them back to you. Where did you hear them?"

"What sort of rumors?"

"I hear you have information on the activities of Henry Ridgemont." The grave voice of the carefully groomed man said.

"I really don't know about his activities… I overheard him on the phone the other night setting up a meeting…with that Scott guy." Mozzie improvised, after all he was good at that. "I'd heard around that Scott was persona non grata with your organization."

"And you thought you should pass along Ridgemont's indiscretion with every Tom, Dick and Harry you know?"

"Of course not..." the small man raised his arms defensively "I may have mentioned it to a couple of close friends… but they are extremely discrete."

"Apparently not that discrete."

"Apparently not."

"You are certain of what you heard?"

"Yes." Mozzie gulped. "Absolutely."

"Then you will take me to this meeting personally."

"M-me?" he stammered as he nervously polished his lenses "Unfortunately I have a prior engagement-"

"It was not a request." Dennison said quietly but the sturdy looking hand gun aimed at Mozzie's stomach conveyed the deathly seriousness of his intentions.

"Oh… well if you put it that way… I'm sure I can cancel." he flinched as Dennison snatched the phone from his hand and tossed it.

"You will have to apologize later." The larger man pulled his swiftly to his feet.


	24. Chapter 24

Diana smiled briefly at him as she opened the door of the tiny ground floor office suite.

"If you're even think about leaving, Caffrey…" she didn't finish the sentence. He couldn't help grinning at her. This was familiar territory.

"Wouldn't dream of it… I like my arms intact. They are my most useful part at the moment." He replied, lifting his hands from his wheels. His grin broadened. Diana chuckled softly. In the quiet office she hesitated before she left. "What?"

"You know I've been investigating your brother's kidnapping…"

"Yeah I know" he blinked at her in surprise.

"DC police pegged him as a serial killer… but we know what he was really up too. I want you to know we're going stop him… as far as I know he's still…" she sighed "But as soon as we take down Dennison I'm going to focus on Richards.

"So there were other kids besides the twelve in DC"

"Twenty or thirty scattered across the country in the twenty years following. Who knows how many since Harrison got out of the game." Neal swallowed hard "But that's not what I wanted to tell you."

"Oh G***" he closed his eyes, trying to brace himself for something bigger… something worse than forty missing kids… forty stolen children. He swallowed raggedly.

"It's about your father."

"Diana stop…I'm not interested."

"Yes, you are." She leaned against the wall and studied him "you hate him and you have a very good reason in my book… I'm not overly fond of the son of a b**** myself but…"

"He set Peter up… he killed that cop thirty years ago."

"I know but there is something that wasn't in my files you should know." Diana met his eyes "About that cop… Let's say he was lucky Bennett just shot him. If I had been in your father's place at the time… Well… it wouldn't have been pretty."

That had Neal's attention "Why?"

"There is dirty and there is dirty. James is a self-serving jerk who deserves whatever he gets for his recent crimes but if someone took Theo and k-killed him and one of the people in our office purposely let him walk on a technicality…"

"But…" he stared at her "Kevin's alive so-"

"Bennett didn't know that. The ME tentatively identified a body as his at the time." She moved forward and with a surprisingly gentle touch lifted his chin, making him look her in the eye. "Neal, you don't have to do anything with this information. I just thought you should know."

"Thanks." He stared at his hands for a long moment "it doesn't change who he became… but it does change who he was." The young man swallowed harshly again "Makes him more like me."

"Except even in pain, Neal, you didn't pull the trigger. That's the difference, you stopped and listened. Keep that in mind"

"Yeah I guess." His eyes stayed down, his shoulders slumped.

"I have a surprise for you." Diana said into the silence.

"Really… you shouldn't have." His grin was forced but he looked up. Without a word she held out an ear piece. "Really?"

"Peter promised in the loop. This is as in the loop as we can do. Now stay here until we give the all clear and don't tell anyone I gave you that."

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Kevin leaned back on the bench, waiting. Ten minutes, fifteen… he stretched

"Do you think he got wind of a set up and spooked?" the words had no sooner crossed his lips than he caught a glimpse of a large man ambling down the dark quiet street. Light brown hair, six foot eight if he was an inch, all muscle… he matched Neal's description of Ridgemont perfectly except one detail his brother failed to convey adequately, how incredibly large the man was. A mountain of muscle, he had called Ridgemont, but somehow…

Kevin used the cane beside him to help him rise, playing the part of a frightened man recovering from many injuries. On his feet he watched the human tank move toward him and flinched, as big as he was, Henry Ridgemont didn't move with the slow heavy movements he would have expected, his steps were light and quick.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come." Kevin said when the other man was within fifteen feet.

"You said you could get me the card."

"I have it right here…. But I need you to promise me you won't bother me or Amelia's son ever again."

"I promise I will never lay a hand on either of you after this meeting." His artic smile sent a chill up Kevin's spine. Kevin smiled grimly, grateful that the FBI agents talked his brother out of being the front on this. Then squaring his shoulders he covered his face with a look of absolute relief.

"Thank you… thank you." He mumbled, broken and terrified, now all he had to do was stall until Dennison showed up. He desperately hoped the weird little guy came through. He fumbled for the memory card in his pocket, allowing it to slide through his trembling fingers and clatter to the street… "I'm sorry… I'll get it." he bend awkwardly as though to retrieve it, keeping his movements slow and uncoordinated. Ridgemont growled menacingly. As he stood and held out the card the big man moved forward

"Scott, whatever it is you are trying to sell I'm not buying." He muttered as he snatched the card. He gave Kevin a shove that sent him reeling back into the wall… hard. Gasping for breath, the young man's eyes darted around looking for…

"Henry!" Dennison shouted as he rounded the corner… with a small bespeckled man in tow. Kevin froze for just a moment. His brother's little friend was not supposed to be here. "I heard you were making off the books deals!" he roared "I might have forgiven that but with this…" He glowered

"Mr. Dennison? No, it isn't what it looks like. I was just trying to recover your card." Now Ridgemont sounded frightened.

"A completely useless plan now that the government has seen it, you should know that." Dennison produced a gun smoothly "What is he really selling you?"

"Nothing I just wanted to correct my error."

"If that's true, then kill him right now." He nodded toward the little guy "Kill both of them"

"With pleasure." Ridgemont grinned turning his large weapon toward Mozzie. Kevin met the little guy's gaze and mouthing "run" he took that moment to throw himself at the huge man. He hoped his brother's friend took the cue.

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Peter took a deep breath when the surveillance video feed showed the massive figure of Henry Ridgemont towering over Kevin. Jones nodded with amusement when Kevin spoke… His voice trembling with suppressed terror.

"He really is just as good at this as Caffrey" he muttered

"He better be." Diana replied "This could get ugly fast." As if to prove her point Ridgemont shoved the smaller man against the wall… hard. Peter flinched.

"All teams prepare to move in."

"Boss? We need to wait for Dennison to show."

"I know" he sighed forcefully not thinking about his promise to his friend. "But it doesn't hurt to be suited up and ready."

The two younger agents grinned understandingly, but they did as they were told..

"Uh… Peter we have a problem." Jones' voice was suddenly worried.

"What's wrong?"

"Well Dennison just showed up." He gestured to the screen "correct me if I'm wrong but the little guy wasn't supposed to be with him, was he?"

"D***! All units move in! Right now!" things just got ugly Peter thought as he stepped out of the van.

In his ear he heard Dennison give the order to kill both men. The thuds of and grunts of a fight followed. The agents broke into a run.

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Seven forms of martial arts, Kevin realized far too soon, only took you so far against an opponent that was three times your size, solid as a tank and as quick and agile as a cat. He got in his fair share of blows, pushing Ridgemont back for a moment, but a blow to the stomach that fell with the force of a small cannon ball dropped the young operative to his knees, another strike from that steel fist sent him to the ground… after that the fight dissolved into a rain of blows that turned the world to a kaleidoscope of agony, how Neal survived three days of this he would never know he found the time to think.

Kevin was aware of the moment the pounding stopped, of the 1911 Desert Eagle aimed at his face. The moment seemed to freeze and stretch… before it was shattered by shouts of "FBI! HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"

Ridgemont's finger twitched toward the trigger and Kevin pulled his scattered mind together in a rush, aiming a strong kick at the side of the huge man's knee, the weapon fired as he grunted in pain and fell. The shot pinged off the concrete an inch from Kevin's right ear… leaving him momentarily deaf. The world slid in and out of focus as he pushed himself up to his knees.

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Rounding the corner Peter almost froze. The sight of Kevin Grant sprawled on the ground with both Ridgemont and Dennison looming over him for the kill shot turned his blood to ice. Mozzie huddled against the wall, apparently frozen… Peter hoped he wasn't hurt. This day would not end this way… he promised Neal he would take care of his brother.

"FBI!" he shouted

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" Jones commanded.

Everything happened quickly after that. Dennison swung around, raising his weapon to aim directly at Peter. Ridgemont collapsed abruptly with a grunt of… surprise… pain? Kevin threw himself forward with incredible speed, jerking the gun as hard as he could by the barrel as it erupted, pulling Dennison of balance. The two of them were falling in a tangle of limbs before half a dozen Bureau issued weapons returned fire. Everything stopped for a heartbeat… two, three…

Then a swirl of activity surrounded the scene.

For a moment Peter stood rooted to the ground, staring at the three figures lying on the sidewalk…he stumbled a few steps forward to reach them before his knees gave out.

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Behind the cannon sized gun Mozzie saw the younger man mouth "run" and he had every intention of doing just that… Except that his feet seemed to have grown roots deep into the cement in the few moments he had been standing still. He stared it horror as the huge finger twitch against the trigger.

Suddenly the mountain of a man lurched to the side as the slim form of Neal's brother launched himself into his ribs. Neal should definitely get his brother to teach him to fight… the kid was really good, the calm center of Mozzie's panicked mind commented wryly.

The kid went down… no way anyone could stand up to that monstrosity of a man for long, and both Ridgemont and Dennison moved in for the kill. Both of them had lost all interest in Mozzie which would have been fine with the little man, it gave him a chance to run now that he finally felt like he could move again except… the young man they were about to wipe from existence was wearing Neal's face. He sighed and picked up a small rock to get their attention when the suits came sweeping in. That smug part of his mind with the running commentary reminded him that he never thought he'd live to see the day he would be glad to see them.

Ridgemont went down and Mozzie followed as the first gunshot rang out.

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Hanging on every sound that echoed through the ear piece Neal heard Jones' muttered voice, asking if the little guy was supposed to be there, Mozzie most definitely was **_not_** supposed to be there. What was Mozzie doing there? Peter was shouting for everyone to move in NOW and the grunts and blows of the fight filled the young man's ears in clear detail. Neal held his breath.

Peter's voice shouting "FBI" was one of the most beautiful sounds he ever heard, but his relief was short lived. He didn't need the ear piece to hear the gunshots that echoed up the quiet street.

Jones' clipped "all clear" did not release the knot of terror in the young man's stomach because his voice was far too tense. Then it was followed a heartbeat later by Diana's voice calling "Man down!" and demanding a bus. Neal choked… someone was hurt. He froze for a single heartbeat. Peter. Mozzie. Kevin… he couldn't hear any of their voices through the feed.

Neal almost threw the device from his ear. His chair was in motion and he was out the door before he drew another breath. Someone he cared about was hurt, he needed to be there. Half a block suddenly seemed much too far away.


	25. Chapter 25

Peter was peripherally aware of the agents around him checking the two suspects, making an effort to keep Dennison alive to stand trial, ensuring Ridgemont was secure and could not escape despite his obviously damaged knee, of Mozzie trying to slink away without giving an official statement, but Peter could only see Kevin Grant lying on his side… frighteningly still. He prayed it wasn't one of their bullets that struck him in the chaos, Neal would never forgive him if it was… he probably wouldn't anyway. Peter promised his friend he would take care of his brother, and now the man was lying there, unmoving on the sidewalk.

Until he wasn't.

The agent had never been so glad to see anyone roll onto their back in his life. With an agonized groan Kevin gripped his right hip and struggled to sit up.

"No." Peter commanded, in charge once again. "Stay still" he pushed the younger man back down "Don't move. Move your hands and let me see."

"Which do you want?" the kid muttered through gritted teeth, "don't move or move my hands." but he slipped his bloody hands aside. As the older man ripped the sodden fabric of his pants to see the wound Kevin hissed sharply.

"Sorry." Close range, just inside the pelvic bone, angled down and outward, Dennison's weapon… meant for me, Peter observed quickly before clapping his hand over it and pressing. "Sorry" he muttered again

"It's ok" Kevin clenched his jaw "Not the first… time."

"Why am I not surprised?" Peter offered him a tight smile. The wound was bleeding heavily despite the pressure.

"You're tense… it's bad?" Kevin's eyes demanded honesty as his hands tried to grasp the concrete to ease his pain.

"I don't know… it could be." he answered as gently as he could. The femoral artery ran through that area somewhere and there certainly was plenty of blood spilling around his hands… or it could have damaged an intestine, releasing gastric fluid… and Peter was sure the bullet was lodged somewhere in the man's hip, which could be permanently disabling. Kevin flinched as Peter shifted his hands. "Just keep still."

"Glad you sent …me instead of…" the blue eyes wandered over the agent's shoulder as his voice trailed off "Neal"

"Kevin focus… look at me." The older man snapped, frightened.

"Peter?" the familiar voice whispered behind him. Glancing over his shoulder he met Neal's pained expression.

"I thought I told you to stay away." The words came out harsh. Peter couldn't hold that gaze, not with his failure written in blood all around them.

"Until the all clear… Jones called it."

"Oh." Neal pushed his chair forward then slid out of it to kneel beside his brother… catching the grasping hand desperately. The older man let his gaze dart between the identical faces, both frighteningly pale, both clenched with heartbreaking pain. 'I'm sorry…" he muttered.

Kevin was clearly struggling to keep his eyes open now as he gripped his brother's hand.

"And you were worried about being a danger to me?" Neal tried to smile as he brushed a trembling hand over the other man's hair.

"Guess… it really does… go… both … ways." His eyes slid shut then, his trembling body stilling.

"Kevin? Stay with me, ok? Kevin… Nick?" Neal pleaded. Peter bit his lip as his friend clutched his brother's hand tighter though his reflection no longer returned the grasp. "Please." The word was whispered like a broken prayer as he dropped his forehead against the slack fingers, a single pair of tears sliding silent, glistening tracks down his white cheeks.

Not usually a praying man Peter still sent a plea upward "Please don't take his brother… he can't bear any more."

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"The waiting room is to cold," Neal thought glaring at his trembling hands, he curled his fingers together to cover the shaking. "They shouldn't keep it this cold in here… there could be people in shock." He almost laughed at that "yeah like you." The more rational part of his brain told him. He looked up from his tangled fingers. The room was mostly empty… except for Mozzie who stood twitching nervously in the corner.

"Sit down Moz" the small man shot the chairs a doubtful look. "You don't have to be here you know."

"I think I do…" he pulled off his glasses and scrubbed them "He is most definitely your brother…"

"What makes you say that… it's not like there is any resemblance" Neal could pretend to be calm… he could hold it together. Mozzie rolled his eyes

"Even if you looked nothing alike it would be obvious. He shares your penchant for doing incredibly stupid things to prevent collateral damage… and he has impulse control of a five year old too."

"What does that mean?"

"He picked a fight with Ridgemont to give me time to run… He's not a bad man… for … well for what he is." Mozzie glared at the floor for a moment "I'm staying." Neal smiled as the little man sat decisively in the blue fake leather chair and crossed his arms.

"Anything?" Peter ask, dropping into the seat next to him. Neal smiled, not that he was glad his friend was back…he was just fine while Peter was gone. It was just… being alone with his thoughts right now was not conducive to being strong and he needed to be strong… just like Ellen taught him when he was four. He could still hear her voice "Your mom is weak right now Danny… she is hurting. When family is weak and hurting we have to step up and be strong and brave. No tears Danny, don't cry… be strong."

"Nope… still waiting." He was rather proud of his calm voice. The older man nodded and passed him one of the cups in his hand.

"It's not the best but it's hot. You looked like you could use something warm" Neal nodded and clenched his trembling hands around the cup

"Thanks, it is a little cool in here" he shrugged when Peter frowned, glancing at his own discarded coat.

"How are you holding up?" Peter gave him a worried look.

"I'm fine." He smiled a bit at his friend's disbelieving snort.

"Would you tell me if you weren't?" Neal shrugged and consciously smoothed his expression, if he let any cracks show, the carefully constructed dam might break.

"We don't know anything yet… no reason to panic until we do." No reason at all, except the blood that clung to his suit… and the instant replay in his mind of Kevin's eyes falling closed, his pale face relaxing, his cold fingers releasing their weak grasp on Neal's hand. He wondered idly if Peter felt anything like this when he was hurt…his friend stared at his own hands and nodded silently, accepting Neal's words. "Any word on Dennison?"

"Not yet. Three bullets to the chest… it didn't look good, the last I heard."

"Can't say I'd lose much sleep if he didn't make it."

"Me either… the irony of this whole mess is if he does pull through it will be because Kevin pulled him down."

"When Dennison shot him."

"Yeah. Neal I…"

"I'll be fine." He pulled a reassuring smile out of his stock and offered it to his friend.

"I'm sorry…I know I promised to take care of him and I…"

"It's not your fault." He said it to quickly…Peter would think he secretly blamed him. He didn't... It wasn't Peter's fault he had no one to blame but himself, as usual. The sting was his own plan, he should have insisted he be the one to meet with Ridgemont. A part of him wished he could be angry at his friend. It would be easier have someone to lash out at, instead of trying to be calm and not think that he may have killed his brother, but he could be strong. Neal bit his tongue for a moment "I know you did your best…"

Neal glanced at the clock… nine o'clock, they had been waiting more than three hours.

"Kevin will make it, Neal"

"I know." He knew as soon as it left his mouth it didn't sound convincing.

"Neal, he will make it."

"What makes you so sure?" The hint of fear that crept into his voice worried him… he couldn't break, not in front of everyone. He had to be strong… his family needed him to be strong, just like Ellen taught him.

"He's your brother… if he's anything like you, he's tough as nails… a stubborn as-"

"Please don't call me a mule Peter." The older man grinned. Whatever he would have said to that was cut off by the door opening. Neal turned his head to face the new comer. The young doctor startled.

"I suppose I don't need to ask for Mr. Grant's family." He said softly as he approached them. Neal watched the man's face closely, the grave look in his eyes, the grim set of his mouth… doctor wasn't bringing good news. Something deep inside of Neal shattered. He fought to keep his expression calm and his breathing even… he had to be strong, no matter what. The doctor's voice was far to gentle when he finally spoke. Neal didn't register much of what the doctor said but he nodded when he should and shook the young man's hand firmly and thanked him before he left. Neal felt Peter's hand on his shoulder and saw Mozzie wipe his glasses gravely. Then someone was pushing his chair deeper into the hospital… and he let them without protest.

The room was dark and Kevin was too still… but Neal finally processed, he was still alive, not doing well, but alive.

He caught his wheels and pushed forward. He gripped the other man's and held on tight. He still needed to be strong…

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2:17 am…

Once again Peter found himself slipping quietly into a dark hospital room at two in the morning. He finished his fourth cup of coffee before he pushed the door open, firmly not thinking of the last time he'd done this. This time Neal sat stiffly in the hospital chair… his wheelchair shoved into the corner, a silent refusal to move. The kid was beyond exhausted but he didn't show any signs of allowing himself to rest anytime soon… not until he knew his brother would be ok.

Neal gripped the cold, limp hand, his thumb absently stroking his brother's deathly grey knuckles as though he could return their warmth and strength by sheer force of will. Blue eyes barely blinked as he stared at the still shape in the bed. It was exactly the same position he had held for the last four hours since they let him in. His own color wasn't much better than the injured man, his lips tinted grey, his harsh breathing too shallow. The lines of Neal's face pulled taunt with the strain, like a spring wound to tight. Peter knew he was going to come unwound… he needed to come unwound because there was no way his friend could keep this up for the next forty-eight hours until his brother was out of the woods… Assuming Kevin made it that far without complications.

The doctor's report had been grim… severe blood loss from a clipped femoral artery left them worried about damage to Kevin's heart and kidneys. A perforated intestine left him open to the likelihood of serious infection. The high caliber bullet passed through his pelvic bone, leaving it in pieces and lodged in the head of his femur. Two badly broken ribs from the fight had caused serious tissue damage to the muscles around his lung… but thankfully hadn't injured the organ underneath. While there was no serious bleeding from his badly bruised kidneys and liver, there was concern about their function...

"You need to rest." Peter said quietly, cautiously squeezing Neal's tense shoulder. "Let me take you home?" no response. "Neal… look at me." Nothing "You aren't… you are exhausted." It was as if both men were unconscious of his presence. Self-consciously he hooked his fingers around Neal's jaw and turned his face until dull blue eyes met his own. The younger man didn't resist at all "there is nothing you can do for him right now…" when Peter released his grip Neal allowed his head to fall forward and his gaze to return to the bed. "Please Neal, talk to me. You can't keep this up, you are going to…" he stopped himself.

"Going to what, Peter?" under his quiet placid tone, agony laced the words "kill myself? That would probably be best for everyone." He said it so calmly, his friend felt his heart stumble over a few beats.

"You don't mean that"

"You know better than anyone the price of getting to close to me. I destroy everyone in my life eventually."

"Neal…"

"If you don't believe me… ask your wife."

"Elizabeth doesn't believe that." He didn't add that she had a few months ago.

"Doesn't she? She clearly been avoiding me since..."

"No she doesn't," Peter sat down beside his friend "She told me recently that she was afraid the price of our friendship had been too high for you. She trying to back off because you keep getting hurt and it's at least partially our fault." that earned him a harsh brittle laugh. "I'm so sorry… Neal. I know I promised I would take care of him and… I'm just sorry… for all of it. You have lost so much and been hurt so many times, since you made the deal with me. And I'm…" he fumbled to a stop then, gripping Neal's arm tightly. Several seconds passed without a response "You hold everything in so well it's so easy to think you are ok… when I know you aren't. When no one could be. The past six months would have destroyed most men. You haven't even let yourself cry, have you?"

"Would you prefer I fell apart?"

"Sometimes… yeah."

"Really?" the laugh was still stiff and fragile "Because…If I do…"

"Yes, really. Neal I would rather you let yourself cry, scream, hit something, throw everything on that table… anything other than sit here and calmly tell me you want to die like we are talking about the weather."

"I don't want to die…" he admitted but his shoulders slumped further, "but I can't keep watching everyone around me…" he gestured to the bed, his hand trembling. "Everyone around me gets hurt and I… it's like I'm untouchable … I always walk away. I'd rather face a week… a month with Ridgemont than… at least then the pain was physical and mine." Neal shuttered at the memories that brought to mind and choked on a sudden sob. With that the strings holding his broken heart together snapped and his body sagged forward. Burying his face in the edge of the bed the young man wept.

Peter slid forward uncertainly, wrapped his arms gingerly around the slim shoulders and held on tight as they heaved. He awkwardly turned the young man into his shoulder. He was terrible with tears and had no idea what to say, not that words seemed adequate… so he just let his friend cling to him until he cried himself out and sagged in utter enervation.

"Come on… let's get you home." Peter shifted slightly reaching for the wheelchair. Neal shook his head weakly.

"Please let me stay…" his voice was barely audible. "There's nothing else for me to do."

Peter pressed his lips together then sighed. "You need to rest. Come on at least lay down in the recliner." For a moment he thought Neal would refuse… then he nodded. Peter pulled the wheel chair over beside him and stepped back. The young man stared at it quietly for too long. "Neal?"

"Peter…" his voice shook "could you help me? I don't think I can…" before he got any farther the older man slid his arm under his shoulders, and lifted him to his near useless feet. Almost carrying his friend the few steps to the recliner, Peter settled him in to it and positioned the chair. He hesitated before draping his jacket over the kid… Neal was already asleep.

Peter settled in the other chair… it was going to be a long night.


	26. Chapter 26

,Diana cuffed both of the unconscious man's hands to the bed, with a little smile. It took an effort to make herself ensure they were not too tight. Honestly if she had thought he would feel them it might have been even more difficult not to make them uncomfortable. After nine and half hours of delicate surgery Dennison was still alive, albeit just barely. Ignoring the machine breathing for him she studied the man with a look as hard as steel and razor sharp. One of the bullets they pulled out of his chest was probably hers… for one brief moment she almost wished it pierced his heart, destroying the monster that caused her friend such pain and pointed a gun at her boss, but then again that would have ended his pain instantly and Neal deserved more justice than that.

"Is that really necessary, Agent Berrigan" the doctor's voice was polite but it quivered with suppressed anger. Clearly the she thought Diana was being cruel.

"He is a suspect in my custody. The hand cuffs are protocol." She controlled her temper… after all the young woman trying to stare her down, was just being a good doctor.

"A suspect that is unlikely to make it to trial… but I suppose you don't care." Dr. Coleman snapped "He's a criminal and that's all you people see. The sum total of his suspected crimes and not a person right? Do you know anything about him… any of his struggles… of course not? There are no shades of grey in your world." Diana almost laughed in her face at the irony of her naive view of the situation. The doctor continued her tirade "He's just a criminal. After a man breaks the law his life ceases to matter doesn't it. I know your type."

"I'm sure you do Dr. Coleman." Diana turned her gaze to the window to resist the urge to lash out at the deluded woman. The soft grey light of dawn was just beginning to creep through the cityscape outside. "If you'll excuse me. I need to update my boss." She pushed passed the zealous woman who seemed intent on enlightening her on human rights.

Four doors down Diana stopped and straightened her weary shoulders. Pushing the door open enough to see Kevin's pale form in the bed and Neal sleeping restlessly in the recliner her eyes found Peter.

"Boss" Diana whispered loudly. He startled, glanced around quickly, then hurried out of the room closing the door softly. "Dennison is still hanging on… Dr. Coleman had some issues with me restraining him."

"Is he going to make it?"

"I don't know." She shrugged "They say it's too soon to tell. His injuries were pretty nasty. He is unconscious and will probably be for several days." She shot a glance at the doctor hovering nearby.

"Thank you Diana, have you arranged a guard detail?"

"Not yet boss." she smiled "it's only five am, but I'll take care of it." she took a breath "How's Kevin?"

"Hanging on." He sighed and glanced back at the room. "Still unresponsive."

"How's Caffrey holding up?"

"As well as he can be… Better than I would be if it was my brother." He frowned "He was up till almost three… and had four nightmares since."

"He's been through h*** boss. Now this…"

"I know that." Peter frowned "I wish there was something I could do. He's going to set his own recovery back… his lungs are still weak, if he gets sick…"

"He's tougher than he looks." She grinned gently.

"He'd like us all to think so." he sighed "he doesn't deserve this."

"Since he's not in the safe house any more…" she pulled the anklet out of her pocket. "Do you want to…?"

"Yeah" Peter sighed and glanced into the room again. "He's not going anywhere but."

"Yeah." She sighed and glanced at the door. "Do you want me too…?"

"No I'll do it after he wakes up." He took the device and slid it in his pocket

"Boss, once I set up the guard detail on Dennison… I have another case I would like to work on if that's ok."

"I understand." He smiled sadly "I'd rather be anywhere but here myself… what's the case?"

"It's a cold case." She shot another glance at the room "An old human trafficking case…" Peter's face lit with sudden comprehension

"The stork kidnappings?"

"It's something I can do for them. Instead of sitting around here." She shifted awkwardly.

"I think its a good idea… but Diana get some rest first.

"Excuse me." Dr. Coleman broke in abruptly "Did I hear correctly? You plan to place a guard detail as well as the restraints on Mr. Dennison. That is absolutely ridiculous. I understand he is a suspect in a crime but as his doctor I have to protest. All of this could seriously affect his chances of recovery. Must I remind all of you that criminals are people too?" Diana suppressed a grin when her boss spun to face the woman, his face set in a look of cold fury.

"There are criminals and there are monsters Dr. Coleman. Dennison will be restrained as my people see fit. I'm afraid he won't get much sympathy from any of my team. If you can't tolerate that I suggest you assign him another doctor."

"That is terrible…sickening. Makes me wonder who the real monsters are." She retorted.

"You have no idea the situation." He glared at her

"The world is not all black and white!" she bit the words off harshly. Peter actually laughed at that.

"My world hasn't been black and white for a long time Dr. Coleman." He growled "But you'll have to forgive me if I can't dredge up to much concern for that man down the hall, but my best friend is tearing himself apart right now hoping his brother survives thanks to your patient."

"And of course your friend matters more because he's an FBI agent" Dr. Coleman almost shouted bitterly. "I get it that Mr. Dennison's life doesn't matter to you because he **_may_** have committed a crime but it matters to me!"

"Could you keep your voice down, doctor?" Peter clipped. "Neal is finally resting and I'd rather you not wake him."

"Of course you don't want me to disturb the "good" man who's not even injured, but let's torture the less than respectable one even though he's fighting for his life, right? You people are so self-righteous it makes me sick." she turned abruptly on her heal and stalked away.

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Katherine Harris nervously looked up as Diana entered the room. After nearly two weeks held without bail at a women's correctional facility she looked nervous. The agent sighed she hadn't had the time to properly interrogate the older woman before the situation with Ridgemont and Dennison demanded her attention… but she had time now, and the investigation was on the books.

"Ms. Harris, you understand we have you on nearly forty kidnapping charges, four counts of homicide, human trafficking and adoption fraud. Unless you cooperate with me you will never walk out of prison, is that clear."

"Yes." The woman swallowed hard.

"You were very young when you started working with Richards. I want to believe you didn't kill those babies. That maybe you didn't even participate in the actual kidnappings, but I promise you even an accessary conviction on all of the charges, you will be ninety before you can even hope for parole. Your daughter is ten years old now… she will be married with grand children before you have any chance of freedom."

"Did you just bring me here to taunt me Agent Berrigan?"

"No." Diana studied her for a few seconds. "I think you still have a way to contact Steven Richards… assuming you do, I want to offer you a deal."

"What sort of deal?"

"If your information leads to Richard's capture we will drop the murder and kidnapping charges… leaving you with adoption fraud and accessary to human trafficking… three to five years. You could be free in time to see your daughter's eighth grade promotion." Katherine swallowed again, tears in her eyes.

"I honestly haven't had any contact with him in ten years." She said softly. "I have an email he said he would keep if I changed my mind but I don't know if it will still work."

"If I get you a computer, you will try to make contact?"

"Yeah I will."

"Good." She studied the older woman "Now I need the names of the families you sold the babies too… all of them. And you need to remember which baby went to which family."

"That's a lot of names, agent Berrigan."

"It's a lot of families who deserve answers."

"I'll give it my best, but I can't guarantee I can recall them all."

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"I'm going to get some lunch." Peter announced into the silence Neal looked up and smiled

"It is about that time isn't it?"

"You want me to get you anything?"

"No thanks." The younger man shook his head. "I'm not hungry… maybe some coffee."

"I can do that."

"Peter..." he hesitated, embarrassed "I'm sorry about falling apart last night. I'm usually stronger than that."

"Neal, what happened last night doesn't make you weak… or broken, you know that right?"

"Breaking down like that…" he didn't look up

"Is not breaking. It's more like a pressure valve. It lets some of the pain out so you don't break. So you can continue to be strong. Painting over your pain… that can lead to… well… really breaking."

"You don't really believe that?" he shook his head in disbelief.

"I do." Peter sighed and the younger man felt his eyes burning into the top of his head, "Right now… Neal you have had six months that would have killed a lot of men, you have more than earned the right to a few tears."

"Still I know how you feel about people crying."

"Not my favorite thing, that's true, but you don't expect me to know what to say so…"

"You didn't tell me to cowboy up." He looked up finally, with a small teasing smile

"Yeah… well" the older man returned the smile with a helpless shrug. "I figured even John Wayne would have cried if he had been through your last few months."

"Thanks… I think."

"Now I'm going to go find that food and your coffee .You want to come with me?"

"I think I'll stay here, if you don't mind." He looked at his brother and bit his lip. He swallowed, not voicing the nagging thought that if he left, Kevin wouldn't be here when he returned.

"Ok." Peter stood up, stretching stiff joints. "I'll be back soon." Neal felt his eyes on him again as he hesitated. Then the door creaked a bit before the soft click of the latch closing made Neal jump. For a horrible moment he was back in the cold dark room knowing Ridgemont was coming. Then reality settled. He wondered if he would tense at the sound of a door opening or closing for the rest of his life. He gently flexed his arms careful not to pull too much at the still healing burns. He pushed his chair back to the bed and squeezed his brother's hand. No response. Twenty hours… the doctors expected him to wake up within twelve unless there were complications, but he still hadn't stirred. Neal blinked at the tears that tried to escape. One break down was enough, even if it didn't make him weak. He needed to be strong again…he may have earned some tears but he'd save the rest for when he was alone.

Neal made a valiant effort to read the magazine the nurse this morning had graciously brought him. Time crept by, the steady ticking of the clock on the wall keeping rhythm with his heart beat.

Kevin stirred.

Neal's eyes jerked up from the page. No… the other man was still as limp and motionless as ever. He sighed, just his imagination, except… eyelids twitched back a quarter of an inch to reveal glimpse of blue.

"Kevin?" his hand trembled as he gripped the slack hand. "Are you awake?"

"M'ybe" the whisper muffled by the mask over his face.

"Shh… you don't have to talk." The cracked eyes drowsily found Neal's face and pale lips flicked slightly upward in recognition.

"Neal?"

"Yeah. I'm here. You're-" his voice cracked. "You'll be ok."

"S-sorry"

"It's ok. You just get better, ok?"

"Deal" Kevin whispered as he drifted back off. Neal drew a slow breath and closed his own eyes to contain his tears. He desperately hoped this was a sign of good things to come.

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"He actually let me see him cry last night. Well this morning actually. I don't think I've ever seen him really cry like that...and you know I don't know what to do with tears. "

"Oh hon" she sighed "I hope you were supportive." Elizabeth kept one eye on the small boy climbing the waiting room chairs as she squeezed her husband's hand.

"I tried to be, it was strange… but I didn't say anything thoughtless."

"That's good."

"I didn't say much of anything, really."

"Honey." She frowned gently at him.

"What could I say Elle. I promised him I would protect Kevin, obviously I didn't."

"He's angry?" she flinched at that thought.

"I wish he was… anger I would know what to do with. He alternates between trying to act like everything is normal and staring blankly into space…" he shook his head "he's not blaming me… he's blaming himself, I know he is."

"Why?"

"The sting was his idea."

"He wanted to send his brother to face Ridgemont."

"He wanted to send himself."

"Of course he did."

"He agreed to Kevin going…reluctantly, after we all vetoed his original plan."

"Good for you."

"Hon, he told me he destroys everyone who gets too close to him."

"That's not true… I can see why he feels that way but…"

"I know."

"See if he will come out and see Will for a few minutes."

To her pleasant surprise her husband returned only a brief moment later with his friend. Before any of them had a chance to say a word William spotted his uncle.

"EAL!" the tiny ball of energy flung his body into Neal's lap. "I tought you went away… I tought you went where my mommy went! And I misseded you so much." His small arms encircled the man's neck desperately. "Why does you chair have wheels? Is it fun? Are your owies all better… do you still have banbaids? I went to lib wid a really grumpy man…until I broked his chair. He turned purple and this thing in his head was going in and out. I didn't really break it … I was going to put it back together, but he got mad before I did. Then I libbed wid a really nice family and they had a cat and a dog and the cat sleeped on the dog's head." the words tumbled out so quickly they were barely comprehensible as the boy vibrated in his lap. Neal managed to hug the bouncing squirming body for a moment.

"Have you been good for Elizabeth?" The woman in question arched an eyebrow and smiled

"Uh-huh…mostly. Wizbet says you are my uncle cause you are my daddy's bruder but…" the child looked at him clearly confused "But Eal I don't hab a daddy."

"Yes you do." Neal stroked the soft curls "hopefully you will get to meet him really soon."

"But I like you…" the little boy pouted "I want to lib wid you."

"Well whether you live with me or not, you are stuck with me for good buddy, I promise." Will's smile lit up the room as he snuggled closer to his uncle.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"I need you to call the Marshals." Neal's voice broke the silence in the car. Convinced to go to dinner with them by his small nephew, he had stared quietly out at the darkness since they left the restaurant.

"Why?" Peter frowned… if his friend had some hare brained idea, he needed to know now.

"I want to give them a message… for my mother."

"You want to contact your mother… now?"

"Yeah… all of this… the way our lives fell apart, the way she fell apart, it all started when my brother was taken. She should know he's still alive."

"Ok," the older man hesitated "But right now… Before we know he'll be… ok?"

"Yes, right now." Neal dropped his head "He was always important even though she never said his name." His unspoken grief whispered into the words, an echo of a lost lonely child. "I can give him back to her… maybe that will be worth something."

The agent scowled. He heard the words his friend didn't say far too clearly, the old, old ache that seeped from a splintered heart.

"Neal…" he looked at his friend quietly "You were important too."

"No Peter," he smiled too brightly "I was there."

In that moment he could picture Neal as a boy… Like William, a ball of irrepressible energy, with an irresistible smile and a mountain of mischievous curiosity. A brilliant young mind who without a doubt felt the competition he was locked in for his mother's love, without ever even knowing who he was competing against. He felt himself constantly compared to a son who would never… could never do wrong. Held up and found wanting against a boy who in his mother's grieving mind would have been a perfect son. Helplessly seeking approval that he could not win in this competition with the ghost in her heart. Neal brought home straight A's, Nick's report card would have been better, Neal scored the highest in his class on the state tests… Nick would have scored higher. He took first prize in track, Nick would have out run him. Neal painted master pieces at twelve, Nick would have done it at eight.

For one brief moment Peter didn't want to send his friend's message, didn't want to give the woman her favored son back, but instead he sighed.

"What do you want them to tell her?"

"Tell her Danny says Nick IS real… and he's still alive." He was quiet for several seconds "her name was Amanda Brooks, when I was a kid. She was Melissa Bennett when they processed her in. If she wants to speak to him …" he swallowed

"I'll give them the message… no promises but I'll give it to them. IF she wants to call she can make contact through me."

"Thanks."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Diana checked Ms. Harris's email at least once an hour… she had her doubts about whether Richards would return the contact, but she desperately hoped he would. The message sent to him was brief.

 ** _I understand now. You were right. Want back in. New York_**

Ms. Harris was quite certain that was all it would take to merit a response. Apparently she was right, Diana decided when a reply finally came through.

 ** _Tuesday. 3 pm. You know the place._**

Disbelief shot through the agent. She was going to nail this guy. After thirty years, blind justice was finally going to catch up with him. She just needed an address and in less than a week the nightmare a lifetime long would finally be over.


	27. Chapter 27

"Yes, I am aware that contact with persons in WITSEC is forbidden." Peter sighed and ran his hand though his hair in frustration "I don't want direct contact. I simply want you to send a message to a woman who entered the program as Melissa Bennett, 28 years ago." After repeating this conversation eight times and being transferred three, he was beginning to think he would never get his friend's message through. "The things I do for you, Caffrey." He muttered under his breath. This was definitely not how he would have chosen to spend his morning, arguing with the marshal's in a hospital cafeteria. "It's from her son, he was in your program too until he went missing almost fourteen years ago. Their names inside were Amanda and Danny Brooks"

"Agent… Burke, was it, I'm not sure how you came by this information but you should not have access to it."

"I know that. Look Neal… Danny gave it to me because believes the message is that important."

"Important enough to risk his mother's safety?" He could hear the woman scowling through the phone.

"Important enough for him to trust you…" Peter frowned, that comment wasn't going to win him any friends, "Believe me when I say trust doesn't come easily for him."

"I see."

"Please just give her the message."

"I will see what I can do… I can't promise anything." He smiled a bit as her words echoed his own from the night before.

"That's all I can ask, I suppose."

"What is the message?"

"Tell her Danny said Nick is real and he's alive."

"Is this some sort of threat?"

"No," he ran his hand over his face "It's good news… She'll understand." He hoped she would. "If she wants to contact her son she can reach him through me."

"We do not encourage contact, Agent Burke."

"If she is anything like her son… I doubt you will have much choice."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()(

She frowned again at the metal cuffs that bound the man to each rail of the bed, anger boiling through her veins. Dr. Gale Coleman considered herself a fair person, she made a point of caring for each of her patients as an individual… as a person, even if society saw them as less than important, even while they were unaware of that care. Every situation was different, every single person she had met in her two years as a surgeon had their own story, their own problems, no matter how rich or poor. Her frown shifted into a scowl, why those in law enforcement couldn't comprehend that she didn't understand. After thirty-six hours poor Mr. Dennison was still unresponsive so at least he probably wasn't aware of the indignity.

She checked his incision sights quickly and redressed the wounds. Then she gave her rounds list a quick glance. She knew Dr. Bryant was out today so she had a couple of extra patients. Her scowl deepened, of course she would get assigned the FBI agent's favored patient. Dr. Coleman held her spine rigid as she stalked down the hall. Stopping outside the open door she plucked the chart from its holder and scanned the contents. Her face softened a little. After all she might not like his friends but Mr. Grant had enough problems without her negativity. She noted that he briefly regained consciousness twice yesterday… the badly fractured pelvic bone was without doubt excruciating, and the elevated white cell count was ominous in his damaged conditioned.

The young doctor pushed the door open and focused on the patient first, firmly not letting her gaze wander to young man sitting in a wheelchair nearby with his feet propped up on the upright chair provided. She had to bite her tongue not to snap at him that wheel chairs were for patients and not for the entertainment of visitors. She told herself she would discuss it civilly with him after she examined the injured man. She felt his eyes on her as she moved around the room.

"What are you doing?" the man asked sharply. Dr. Coleman spared a glance at him. Obviously this was the brother the FBI agents were so concerned about getting his beauty sleep yesterday, the resemblance between the two men was… remarkable. Not just brothers, she realized, identical twins, that was the only explanation. His hard gaze didn't waver. She refused to quell to that arrogant look

"My job" she snapped irritably.

"You are not his doctor." The blue eyes were cold, suspicious… she couldn't believe he was questioning her like a suspect. Obviously he had heard about her defense of Mr. Dennison and was trying to remind her of her place, she decided.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Agent Grant." She bit off each word sharply. His gaze shifted…a frown playing at his lips. "And you need to get out of that chair." The frown turned to confusion and she smiled. Of course it never occurred to him I would call him on his behavior, she thought. He made no move to get out the chair though and his gaze moved to her chest. She scowled openly now. "Get out of that chair before I call security." She snapped. His hands came up as if to pacify her.

"I think there has been a misunderstanding, Dr. Coleman." He still remained seated as her lips clamped together tightly. She would not be unprofessional enough to scream at him in a patient's room. "My name isn't Grant…"

"You are obviously his brother."

"Obviously" he was grinning at her now, but suspicion lingered in his blue eyes. "But we have different names. It's complicated. Where is his doctor?"

"Dr. Bryant took a few days off this week, I'm covering for him, Agent…" she waited for his name.

"Caffrey, Neal… who told you that I was an agent?"

"Your friends made that quite clear yesterday." Along with how much more important your rest was than my patient's survival, she added mentally.

"But no one actually said it?" he looked a little worried, she noted.

"No"

"Well then I better correct you before Peter decides I'm conning you. I'm not an agent, I'm a consultant." He glanced at the bed "How is he?" behind the arrogance she heard the real concern there and relented a bit.

"He's doing as well as can be expected, though he's not out of danger yet… I'm sure Dr. Bryant explained the possible complications."

"Yes"

"His white cell count is elevated"

"Infection?"

"Possibly, and his renal function isn't where we would like it to be…his blood pressure has mostly stabilized overnight but not entirely." She nodded to his seat "that's one of the reasons you can't have that in here… if there was an emergency it would be in the way." He looked at her as if she struck him.

"Oh… no… no one told me." He swallowed hard and shifted immediately moving his right leg slowly to the edge of the straight backed chair and allowing it to drop heavily to the floor. Then he used his hands on his left knee, to move that leg and Dr. Coleman noticed two things at the same instant. First the young man was wearing no shoes and under his socks his feet seemed too bulky for his slender build. Second, his sleeves pulled back slightly revealing dingy gauze bandages around his wrists spotted with dried blood, as he lifted his left leg down. The young woman felt color rush to her cheeks as she realized what he was doing.

"Oh." She gasped "I didn't realize you needed… I thought you brought a patient chair in here." She fumbled over her words "I'm sorry."

"I don't want to be in the way… if the chair is a problem I'll leave." His voice shook slightly, his eyes on the bed.

"No. I misunderstood the situation." She frowned at the relief in his eyes.

"Thank you."

"When is the last time you changed the dressings on your arms."

"Before Kevin was shot." He dropped his eyes "I know I'm supposed to do it twice a day but… I'm fine." The doctor stared at him, debating briefly with herself.

"Let me take a look." she stepped forward and settled into the chair his feet had vacated.

"I can do it myself"

"I'm sure you can… but after two days, I think a professional opinion is in order." The young sighed in resignation and offered his arm. Grasping his hand, she quickly clipped the gauze on his right arm and gently pulled it loose as it stuck to the skin… she sucked in a quick breath as the half healed burns were revealed, the wounds weeping a little around the edges of the skin graft. "You should have asked someone to change this… burns like this are prone to infection until they are completely healed."

"I know… but I've been a little…distracted" he looked pointedly at his brother. She nodded and carefully unwrapped his left arm. He was quiet, and she studied the man's appearance as she worked. He was pale… and painfully thin. A fine surgical scar ran around his left eye, noticeable only because it had yet to fade. Dr. Coleman frowned wondering how she hadn't noticed before the soft labored wheezing audible in his lungs and the grey tint on his lips. Finished rewrapping his arms she asked

"Can you take off your shirt, I want to listen to your chest."

"I'm fine."

"Your breathing sounds congested."

He complied with a sigh. "You are supposed to be taking care of Kevin."

For a long moment she stared at the battered torso. The puckered gunshot scar at the base of the sternum, the long pink incision where his chest had been surgically opened, the small mark where a drainage tube had fit into his side. The pink line down his back indicated a spinal surgery, and explained the chair. None of the scars looked older than a few months and several looked more recent than that. His ribs, collar bones and shoulder joints jutted out disturbingly. There was another small bandage on his abdomen. Her hands moved unconsciously to peel it away.

"G tube?" she blinked at the sutures "When was it removed?"

"Four days ago." Her stomach clenched.

"You pulled your stitches."

"It's not a big deal." The young doctor glared at him in disbelief.

"You could have internal bleeding."

"I'm fine."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Where does he want to meet?" Diana leaned over the older woman.

"What?"

"Richards contacted you… he said you would know the place."

"When does he want to meet?"

"Why?" her eyes darkened with suspicion that the woman was playing them.

"He had different places depending on the day. We worked here in New York a few times."

"Tuesday…" Diana watched her reaction closely "3:00 pm." Katherine frowned thoughtfully tapping her finger against her cheek absently. Her eyes lighted as the memory floated into place.

"There is a little park…well it's a playground actually. On Stratton Island. Arrochar playground." Diana had to turn away to hide the way her stomach lurched at the thought of two kidnappers meeting at a playground.

"Why there?" the agent watched the woman drop her eyes

"No one questioned a man and a woman exchanging a child at a playground." She mumbled

"I see."

"But that's where he will be." Diana nodded in response because she couldn't bring herself to thank this woman again.

"Do you have that list of names?" She asked instead. Ms. Harris bobbed her head once.

"It's not all of them… I'll add more as they come to mind but…" she pushed the folded paper across the table. The list held probably thirty single names matched with an equal number of couples.

"How did you do it?" Diana stared at the list fighting the urge to strangle the woman." How did you take the babies without anyone hearing them cry?"

"Steve drugged them… and any siblings in the room. It was just a mild sedative. It didn't hurt any of them. It was just enough to make them to sleepy to fuss while we got away."

"You drugged them." Diana kept her gaze on the paper because if she looked at this woman she would do something she would regret. Her eye found Nick Bennett… fifth down on the list, matched to Naomi and Jeff Grant… confirmation they didn't need, but it reminded her.

"Who was the thirteenth baby in DC?"

"What?" Harris looked up.

"There were thirteen babies reported missing… Four bodies were recovered… one of them was ID'd as Nick Bennett… But he is listed here as sold to the Grants. So who was the unidentified baby?" Katherine looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"I don't know exactly… his mom called him Kyle… but we never got a last name."

"Why not?" she looked at the list every entry was a full name.

"She sold him to us… We just met up about a block from the Bennett house and this woman came up to us and offered Steve her baby too… for two hundred bucks, she was obviously an addict."

"And who killed him."

"It was an accident. We had him for three days… he cried the whole time."

"Why didn't you drug him like the others?"

"I honestly don't know. I think maybe Steve did, but if he did it didn't work. I just know he wouldn't stop crying. Finally Steve grabbed him and shook him…not hard but firmly and he stopped for a minute, then he screamed…" she studied the table, her finger tracing the wood grain. "So Steve shook him harder… He stopped crying… then he stopped moving, seemed to fall asleep… then he started jerking around, he threw up twice and stopped breathing. It only took a few minutes…I was holding him when he… and… and." She twisted her cuffs quietly. When she looked up her eyes were haunted. "I only wanted to give him a future but…"

"You killed him instead." Diana clenched her jaw. It took every fiber of her resolve to walk away without inflicting damage.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

As the call disconnected Peter felt eyes on him. He frowned glancing around and remembering suddenly Dennison's organization was not a small one. Was it possible one of his people decided to get revenge for their boss? It seemed unlikely, from what the agent knew of the man he was a hard, uncaring man… inspiring loyalty primarily though the disappearance of anyone who he deemed less than appropriately committed. The man ruled by fear and that didn't usually result in anyone who would kill for him while he lingered unconscious between life and death.

Peter crushed his paper coffee cup and dropped it in the trash. He glanced around again as he walked out of the cafeteria. While he thought he could dismiss Dennison's people, someone was watching him. His thoughts flickered to the conversation he had with Kevin Grant. His boss no doubt knew by now what happened. If Kevin was as valuable to his… agency as Peter suspected he might be, his superiors would not be happy about him being out of commission… possibly permanently. Would they lash out?

He found his steps accelerating as he neared the elevator. Once the doors closed he dialed a familiar number.

"Jones"

"I need everyone to check in."

"What's going on Peter?"

"Someone is watching me… It's probably nothing, but I need you to get the whole team to check in regularly. I want to know everyone is safe."

"Got it, I'm on it." the younger agent hesitated "do you think you need back up?"

"I honestly don't know." He ran a hand through his hair "whoever it is hasn't made a move… hasn't even shown themselves."

"I'll send someone over just in case."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"What are you doing?" the agent in charge from yesterday growled behind her. As she bent over the pulled sutures where the feeding tube had so recently been removed, her hands pressing gently searching for worrisome firmness or pain. "Neal are you ok? Did something happen?" his voice softened dramatically, his expression protective.

"I'm fine."

"Actually his bandages should have been change twice yesterday, he pulled his stitches here and I'm concerned about the way his lungs sound." She glared at the agent "I thought you said he was your friend." The agent opened his mouth to respond but the younger man cut him off.

"I've been changing the bandages on my own arms for a month." His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. "What is your problem with Peter…" he turned the laughing eyes on the older man "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing."

"What kind of nothing are we talking about?" his eye darted back to her "he said something insensitive, didn't he? He doesn't mean things like they come out… most of the time." He shrugged helplessly. The doctor kept her eyes on Neal's chest, focusing on listening to his slightly congested lungs. "Come on Peter, what did you say?"

"She didn't appreciate Diana cuffing Dennison." The words were blunt, the tone flat… carefully contained.

"Oh." His voice was very quiet when he spoke, but his eyes hardened and the doctor felt the slight tremor flutter though his suddenly tense muscles, heard the catch in his breath through her stethoscope.. "Trust me… he deserves it." he told her, she looked up ready to enlighten him, but the words died on her lips. His blue eyes reflected too much fear despite his efforts to cover it with a smile.

"He's the one who…" she gestured to his marked body.

"Ordered him tortured, shot and dumped in the river…Yes." It was the older man who answered. "He was dead when we pulled him out, it took ten minutes to revive him…the temperature of the water is the only thing that prevented massive brain damage. Nine broken ribs… nine and a punctured lung. The bullet passed through the membrane around his heart and lodged in his spine." He said it in an even expressionless tone, but she caught the horror that reflected in the man's eyes as he spoke. It matched the feeling growing in her mind,

"He's the one who shot Kevin… and killed Amelia." The younger man added. He didn't look at her, staring instead at his brother, his whole attitude dismissing the importance of his own injuries. There was no trace of the arrogance she saw earlier in his manner.

She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling sick. She had self-righteously lectured a victim's friends about their lack of concern for his tormentor's dignity. Everyone has a story, her guilty conscious reminded her, and you didn't even ask about theirs.

"I didn't realize…" she once again found herself searching for the words. The agent's gaze was brown stone, unrelenting and unforgiving. "I thought it was just because he broke the law…" Both men stared at her silently for so long she felt the need to squirm.

"Did you change the wraps on his ankles and feet?" When the agent finally spoke the tone was surprisingly soft and the words were not at all what she expected. "The burns there were worse than his arms."

"No. I didn't know about them" she quickly lifted his feet to her lap. Pushing back his pants she found herself blinking at the electronic device around his left leg.

"Dennison's cuffs don't bother me in the slightest. But this…" The agent said quietly as he stepped forward and waved a key over the thing "this kills me. The fact that I have to unlock this so you can clean the injuries on my best friend's ankle… that is wrong Dr. Coleman. As I told you yesterday there are criminals and there are monsters… James Dennison is a monster." His lips twitched up in a small sad smile "Neal Caffrey, forger, thief, con-artist… is a good man." The younger man grinned broadly at his words and the agent met his gaze and sighed ruefully "Who is never going to let me forget I said that." The look that passed between the two men contained a good deal of exasperated affection, the part of her mind not flailing for a grasp on reality noted.

"You mean… he's a…?" Her voice trailed off, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment as she remembered her accusations.

"It's not always a black and white world, right Dr. Coleman?"


	28. Chapter 28

Gale Coleman straightened her shoulders, stepping out of the room. Mr. Dennison was awake… was going to make it to trial. He had murmured a complaint about the handcuffs hurting his arms. Part of her still felt bad about that, even though she knew he deserved it. She would asked the FBI agents if they could use medical grade restraints while he was under her care. It seemed like a reasonable compromise to her but she doubted they felt very reasonable right now. She wasn't sure she really blamed them…

She sighed as she headed for Kevin Grant's room. Just hours after her conversation with Agent Burke and Neal, Kevin's white cell count had climbed disturbingly and his temperature suddenly spiked, rising from 99.1 to 104.7 in less than an hour. Medication brought it back down to around 103 but with the infection that caused the fever still raging through his system, it had stubbornly refused to come down any lower. Things really didn't look good. His weakened organs struggled to keep functioning. The fact that he was still with them after three days spoke volumes about the man's strength.

The look of hope on his brother's face every time she checked in made it that much harder to enter the room. She wanted to give him good news, but each hour the fever lingered only weakened her patient. At least Neal allowed her to change his bandages and agreed to take the antibiotics she prescribed… but he didn't seem to eat anything even though she asked the nurses to provide him with meals, nor did he ever seem to leave the room.

She pushed the door opened and found exactly what she expected. The young man in the wheel chair pulled up to his brother's bed, holding the other man's hand, speaking encouragement in a soft soothing tone, though his voice sounded rough with over use. He glanced over his shoulder and flashed her a smile. Once again she marveled at his strength and determination as well. She could only imagine what a force to be recognized with they would be if they were both healthy.

"Good evening Neal." She returned his smile "How's he doing?"

"Better I think… he has been quieter." He swallowed hard. Obviously he knew that might not be a good thing. He glanced over her shoulder as his friend quietly slipped into the room, giving the other man a nod.

"Has he been awake at all this afternoon?" the doctor continued

"A couple of times." Neal sighed "he didn't really recognize me but…" Dr. Coleman bent over her patient pushing his damp hair back, and gently ran the thermometer over his forehead. She looked at the reading and blinked… she lay her hand on his skin for a moment. She smiled.

"What?" Neal's voice was anxious.

"100.2"

"That's good…"

"I'll have Kylee check it again in half an hour, but I think his fever is breaking."

"He'll be ok?"

"I think he will be." The man seemed to deflate with relief. "Which means I expect you to get some rest."

"Of course." He grinned

"Preferably in your own bed."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter rolled his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair, as he drove. He spent the last hour trying to convince Neal to go home and sleep in his own bed. He knew it was a futile effort, but he had hoped that since the fever that raged through Kevin's body had finally broke he might be willing to take care of himself for a few hours. While Neal had grinned in relief when the doctor said the worst had passed… that she thought his brother was out of danger, he said with stony firmness he wanted to be there when Kevin woke up. Peter couldn't really blame him for that.

Dr. Coleman had assured him she would keep an eye on Neal as well. She was a surprisingly competent and caring doctor, once they got passed her idealistic fervor, insisting on prescribing Neal an antibiotic and insuring he took it. The young man argued daily he wasn't her patient, but his lungs were definitely sounding better.

Parking outside his house, he rolled his shoulders again and glanced up at his bedroom window… dark. Not that he was surprised it was almost 1:00 am, Elizabeth and William probably went to bed hours ago. He quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside. A small noise caught his ears. Peter stood for a moment allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

Someone cleared their throat. Peter's hand went to his weapon.

"I wouldn't Agent Burke." Even in the dim light he saw the glint off the barrel. Peter lifted his hand slowly, clearly away from his own holster.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"You may call me Donavan." He recalled Diana's description of her encounter with the man.

"Kevin Grant's supervisor." Peter's frown deepened "what are you doing in my home?"

"I like to know who is using my people."

"I'm sure you do."

"Grant is a remarkable operative."

"I'll agree to that." Peter moved carefully into the room his hand searching for the lamp chain. Fear shot through him again as he remembered these people may be the "good guys" but they didn't play by the same rules as the rest of the team "Where is my wife?"

"Sleeping I assume" the shadow shrugged carelessly "I haven't seen her." He wanted to rush upstairs and confirm she was unharmed but he had a feeling turning his back on Donavan would not be a good idea. Peter's fingers found the chain and the light momentarily blinded both of them.

"Kevin is very good at what he does. I didn't recruit him for this job… he volunteered." He kept his eyes on the gun resting in the man's lap.

"Why would he do that? He had plenty of assignments that needed his unique touch."

"He… had a great deal of… respect for Amelia Woodbridge."

"So this has nothing to do with your consultant that your associate said you 'Pulled out of the Hudson?' Why did she lie to me Agent Burke?"

"She didn't" he smiled "she allowed you to draw certain conclusions but she didn't lie."

"She deceived me." Donavan's voice was cold "and now my best agent may not survive. Even if he does the damage done may make him unsuitable for field work. I want to know your game, Burke." His concerned eyes gave him away. He was here because he was worried about the young man.

"There is no game… We are just doing our job. Diana didn't know who she should trust." He sighed "At the time… it was unlikely Neal would survive the night. She was protecting him on the off chance he did."

"I see. So involving my agent was also protecting him."

"Yes. But it was Kevin's idea."

"Why would he be interested in the safety of an FBI consultant?" Peter tried not to be offended by the disdainful way Donavan said FBI. He quickly debated what to tell the man but the fact was it would be public knowledge soon.

"Because Neal is his brother."

"Grant is an only child agent, Burke."

"He grew up as one. He was adopted, I know you know that."

"I do."

"I'm sure you know his adoption was not quite... traditional."

"I may have been aware." He ground the admission between his teeth.

"I'm surprised your people didn't put it together that he was kidnapped as a child…" his voice trailed off as a thought struck him "unless you did."

"We had our suspicions, but it was never confirmed." The greying man said with surprising honesty before he made a dismissive gesture "The information was insignificant."

"Even if it meant there was another man of the same caliber out there?"

"That is highly unlikely." the man frowned "Grant is…one of a kind."

"Not as much as you think." Peter frowned back at him

"I have never found anyone with his ability to blend in or stand out at will." He scowled at the younger man's knowing expression. "And your shortsightedness may have taken that asset from us."

"Kevin is recovering."

"He shouldn't have gotten hurt." It was a growl.

"I agree. I wish I could have prevented it, I thought if it was a legitimate operation I could control the situation…"

"Obviously you couldn't."

"Obviously things got out of control… but he was going after Dennison whether he had back up or not. That would be your training, I assume." Or genetics, Peter added in his mind.

"Yes, I suppose he would have." The older man conceded reluctantly. Peter sighed in relief as Donavan holstered his weapon.

As soon as the man stepped out the door, peter sprinted up the stairs. His breathing didn't return to normal until he found his beautiful wife sleeping in the guestroom with William's small tousled head resting on her chest.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

He was vaguely aware that time was passing, floating occasionally to the edge of the drug induced ether in which he existed, awake enough to recognize the grinding pain that echoed dully through his system. Each time he was surprised to find he wasn't alone. A constant presence… a reflection of his own face that coaxed and encouraged and sometimes, when the pain was unbearably close, soothed.

This time his head didn't swim when he pulled his eyes open, and the fog in his mind seemed to have dissipated considerably. It was quiet in the room and the face that had hovered over him before was strangely absent. He turned his gaze slowly to each side, then shook his head with a smile. His brother slept in the recliner, stress lines creasing his face. Kevin made an attempt to sit up and gasped as the pain in his hip roared back into focus. He bit his lip to contain the cry that tried to come, but Neal still awoke with a jerk. Kevin caught a brief flash of fear on the other man's expression, before it was wiped away with a brilliant smile. Clearly his brother's dreams weren't pleasant.

"Good morning." Neal said quietly. "Are you ok?"

"I've woke up feeling better, but I'm ok."

"Pain?"

"Not bad." He sighed at the other man's doubtful frown. "As long as I don't move."

"Your fever broke last night." Neal smiled again, a softer more natural smile "you seem clearer."

"I feel clearer." He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "So fever huh? That explains the fog I've been in."

"Yeah… well that and your weight in painkillers daily." Some of the tension had faded from Neal's face a teasing grin slipping into place.

"I'm willing to bet I'm still on the painkillers."

"Yeah." Neal gave him another brief grin "that would be a safe bet."

"And you stayed through it all?"

"Family." He said it like it explained everything. Kevin looked away, it had been a long time since anyone cared enough to stay with him through a situation like this. Neal was definitely getting closer than he should. Kevin pushed the thought away.

"How long does family sit around a hospital waiting for me?" he honestly didn't know. When he woke up in the hospital at seventeen he had been alone. It was several days before they told him his dad was dead and even longer before they let him visit his mother as she lay, lost forever in a deep coma. That was the last time he had a family when he found himself in a hospital.

"As long as it takes." The other man shrugged

"Thanks." The pause stretched like putty in the air. "Did we get Dennison?"

"You did… not sure you'll be happy to hear you saved his life."

"I did?"

"He was going to shoot Peter… you jerked his arm and pulled him over as the team shot at him. He only took three bullets instead of twelve or fifteen."

"Oh."

"He's going to spend the rest of his life in prison. If that makes you feel any better."

"It does I guess…" he actually wasn't sure how he felt about the man who ordered Amelia's death being alive. "What about Ridgemont?"

"In Riker's… you dislocated his knee."

"Good." He glanced at his brother… a bit of strain still tinted his expression. "So … will I live?" he grinned, watching Neal slide from the recliner to his chair. The other man moved closer to him once he was mobile.

"I think so, now… your hip is a mess. Going to need surgery a couple of times to repair it… even then…" he shrugged. "It may never be 100%" Kevin nodded. Neal absently patted his knee. "Diana is going after the man who took you as a baby… she's hoping to make an arrest tomorrow."

"That's good."

"She thinks they took forty or fifty kids." Neal was silent, letting that sink in. "I sent our mom a message."

"What did she say?" Kevin tried to hide the yawn

"Nothing yet." He shrugged again "I don't even know if it's been delivered, but I'm sure she will want to see **_you_**." Despite the settling exhaustion, he heard the emphasis Neal placed on the last word. He would have asked about it but his eyes were drooping "get some rest."

"You too." He managed before the fog swirled back in.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Meredith Wilcox watched the man and woman in dark suits slowly mount the stairs to her front door. Their set blank faces were unfamiliar but the expression was one she knew well.

"Ms. Wilcox" the man began "I'm afraid you may be compromised."

"How? What happened?"" she didn't want to move, to become another person, to try to build another lonely life. Not that it really mattered, she had no friends, for the last thirteen years no family. Nothing and no one to leave behind… to miss her when she was gone. Her mind spiraled off into the abyss that consumed so many of her days… She had a family once, a whole beautiful family and a life worth living but that had all vanished thirty years ago.

"Ms. Wilcox? Are you ok ma'am?" the woman was calling to her… she must have missed what they said.

"Yeah I'm fine."

"As I said the contact came from an FBI agent." The man continued as the woman regarded her with a look of disgust and pity. "It may not be a threat but we are on standby to move you if it should prove to be."

"Right." She sighed "so I should pack my things?"

"Probably, Ms. Wilcox." The woman said gently. Meredith frowned, she didn't want this woman's pity. "There was a message for you." This time the man frowned, his eyes snapping angrily.

"What message?"

"We weren't sure if it was meant to be threatening or not… maybe you could enlighten us?"

"Tell me." She was incapable of fear now… there was nothing the men she spent her life hiding from could take from her. She had nothing.

"He said the message was from Danny?" for the first time Meredith raised her eyes and really looked at the young woman.

"You're sure he said Danny?"

"Yes. He said to tell you 'Danny said Nick is real." Meredith choked, suddenly feeling sick her buried loss surging through her mind. Her beautiful perfect little boy, laid to rest in an untended grave…untended because her husband refused to let him rest in peace, refused to believe he was gone. She could feel his tiny fingers in her hair as he hugged her, his blue eyes laughing as his face glowed with baby giggles. Yes, she admitted to herself after all this time Nick was real, but not anymore. "And he is alive." The woman finished as Meredith's world stopped abruptly on its axis.

"Alive…?" it was a soundless whisper choked with disbelief.

"Yes… does that mean something to you? Is it a threat? A warning?"

"A lie." She said firmly, she could let herself hope… she didn't dare. "It can't be true."

"Who is Nick, Ms. Wilcox?"

"My baby. He died… a long time ago."

"And Danny?"

"His brother." Her disbelieving tone shifted to something colder, more distant. "He let them take my baby from me." She didn't voice the thought aloud but it floated through her mind. For seventeen years she had denied it… pushed that harsh thought aside because Danny was her son to too. She admitted the truth now, at least to herself. He lay there sleeping in the same bed while that man took her baby and did nothing… didn't even cry out to let them know it was happening. He was still sleeping when they discovered their loss. Meredith shuttered, her hands trembled. She needed her pills. She wanted so desperately to believe the message. Wanted to believe her son was alive. D*** she needed her pills.

"Do you know where the message came from?"


	29. Chapter 29

"Grant?" Donavan's voice startled him. Kevin quickly turned his eyes from the window, and faced his boss. It took a moment longer to pull his thoughts away from the surprisingly pleasant images of staying here, raising his son and making up for the time he missed with his brother.

"Sir."

"How are you doing?"

"I'll live."

"Good." The older man frowned "and your hip?"

"Will heal." He shrugged "eventually."

"Well enough for field work?"

"Hopefully."

"It better." Donavan met his eye sternly. "What were you thinking Grant?"

"That we should have taken Dennison down while I was inside his organization last month." The words slipped bitterly past his lips.

"Because of Miss Woodbridge."

"Amelia was one of the best." He sighed, pushing the pain aside "But no… because he has been killing and torturing people for information for the better part of a decade and selling it to the highest bidder."

"Bringing down those bidders is important Kevin." Donavan glared at him from under his greying brows. "Many of them were terrorists. They could have killed a lot of people if we didn't"

"We should have found another way. How many people died because of us letting Dennison slide. They murdered Amelia, they nearly killed my brother… how many others." His superior studied him quietly.

"What is rule number one, Grant?"

"Don't let emotion cloud your judgement." He shook his head, adverting his eyes while he contained the emotions that tried to escape.

"You have always been good at that Kevin, one of the best… you never get emotionally involved… with anyone." Donavan sounded worried.

"They tortured my brother because they thought he was me."

"Grant… you didn't even know you had a brother." Something in the older man's voice caught his mind.

"But you did?" he didn't flinch away from his boss's steely gaze "Didn't you?"

"No."

"I have worked for you for five years, I know when you are lying to me."

"I didn't know you had a brother… but I knew it might be a possibility. That your adoption had certain…shall we say… irregularities."

"You knew I was kidnapped."

"It wasn't relevant."

"It was to me!" he allowed silence to engulf them. It lingered while the older man walked to the window and stared out at the roof of the parking garage. When he finally turned back his voice was tightly controlled.

"I have arranged your transport to one of our medical facilities as soon as you are cleared to be moved…If anyone can get you back to 100% they will." He waited for a response, but Kevin just nodded. His eyes were kinder as he continued "It would be best if you leave him, Kevin...safer…for both of you."

"I know." He did know that. He had seen the pictures documenting his brother's injuries. He knew how much being associated with him had cost, but Neal was still willing to risk it. That made it hard to walk away.

"Family is a huge risk in our business."

"I know that, and I'm not willing to take that risk." If that made him weaker than his brother then so be it, Kevin decided.

"Good." The older man looked at him doubtfully "I'm not saying it couldn't work, some agents have normal family lives when they are off duty… but it is dangerous. It makes you vulnerable."

"I can walk away." He swallowed hard, firmly not thinking about how easily he and Neal meshed… how they connected instantly, the way their minds seemed to be two halves of the same whole... "But let me tell him goodbye."

"You have a few days until we move you."

"Thank you sir."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Diana waited on the park bench, watching Katherine Harris like a hawk. It was a huge risk bringing her to the meet, but if the man didn't see her he would most likely keep walking. Several agents wandered the periphery, waiting. It was 2:55 and everyone held their breath, wondering if Steve Richards would show… if he really believed Ms. Harris' contact. Pretending to read her book she scanned each face that passed.

At 2:59 she saw him. A sturdy, averaged sized man, in his late 50's, grey sprinkled his once dark hair and lines traced his features but he still looked enough like the thirty year old pictures to be recognized. Moving her hand as though to brush back a stray lock of hair, she murmured.

"I have eyes on Richards… coming around the south of the jungle gym. Grey shirt. Careful he's carrying something." Her fellow agents quickly acknowledged her as he approached the bench that held his former girlfriend and seated himself beside her. Her eyes fell on the parcel in his arms and her heart stuttered. The small bundle looked like a baby… not more than a month old, Diana thought. The stunned look on Harris' face confirmed her fear. "Nobody move in yet… Richards has a potential hostage." Diana whispered urgently.

"I didn't know you were going to bring a baby today." Harris said quietly, so quietly Diana only heard her through the ear piece. D***! She hoped the crew in the van was recording this.

"You said you wanted back in so you are back in." he shrugged casually "You were always better with the kids than I was."

"That's true" Harris' voice wavered nervously. "You were to rough sometimes."

"Men aren't as gentle as women are." The man said it ruefully. Diana contained an indignant snort and the urge break his nose.

"But it's harder to convince a couple you are giving them your baby that you love, when they have bruises." She lamented, more confident now.

"Which is why I need you, Kathy." He smiled affectionately, Diana's stomach turned a slow loop in her gut. "Will you find a suitable home for this little girl?"

"I told you I want back in, didn't I?"

"Yes you did." He frowned slightly "Kathy don't take less than a hundred grand for her…"

"I thought eighty was our magic number."

"Inflation." He gave her a cheeky smile.

"Got it." she reached for the child, and the agents around the park held their breath. For one heart stopping moment it looked like Richards wouldn't surrender his prize, then with a playful grin he released the baby into her arms. Harris cradled the newborn with surprising gentleness and stood up to walk away. "Two weeks, same place?"

"You'll bring my 70%"

"Of course."

Katherine Harris walked twenty feet before the scene exploded with shouts of "FBI!" and a dozen agents converged on the startled man. Steve Richards surrender was far too easily, Diana thought. He allowed himself to be cuffed with a smug little smile that forced Diana to clench her fists until her nails drew blood to keep from hitting him. She made sure she was the one who read his rights and walked him to the vehicle. There would be no risk of technicalities on her watch.

"You won't convict me, sweetheart." He told her as she closed the door. She didn't meet his eyes and slammed the door firmly.

"This time we have you, and no one here is for sell…you will never see freedom again." She whispered before walking around to her seat.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Neal's voice was quiet… calm as he watched his brother. His fingers softly stroked his sleeping nephew's head. Only an hour ago he had introduced William to his father and now…

"My boss wants to transfer me to a secure facility…" He offered a small smile 'I don't get much say in the matter."

"But you do get a say in coming back."

"Some." Kevin confirmed, there was, after all, no reason to deny it.

"But you aren't going to are you?"

"Neal…" he sighed and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "I want to stay, more than I have wanted to stay anywhere since that summer in London with Amelia… but that is exactly the reason I can't."

"You aren't allowed to be happy?" his brows arched over blue eyes.

"I won't risk your safety…William's safety." He dropped his eyes, unable to meet the hurt that reflected back at him. "Family… close ties make an agent vulnerable."

"I know that." The hint of reproach in Neal's voice hit him like a rock "Better than most, but they also make you better… stronger."

"We've had this conversation before."

"Yes, we have." Kevin heard his brother shift in his chair. The silence crackled in the air like an electric current.

"I'm sorry Neal, I'm not as strong as you are." He admitted reluctantly.

"Are you sure?" he wasn't asking about Kevin's strength.

"Yes I'm sure, I leave in two days." He raised his shoulders helplessly "Just forget you ever met me."

"I can't do that Kevin."

"Then tell yourself I died…" He flinched at the look that crossed the other man's face.

"Just take care of yourself." Neal smiled, his expression exasperated and his eyes painfully sad. "And maybe contact me occasionally."

"Maybe."

"It can be subtle. I'll figure it out."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Meredith Wilcox walked slowly into the hospital following the FBI agent the two stiff marshals told her the message came from. Slipping away from them and finding him had been surprisingly easy. It had simply been a matter of entering his name in an online search … his address was listed in an online phone book. Her hands shook violently, her whole body trembled and her stomach clenched. Thirty years she relied on pills to push back her memories… to take the edge off the throbbing ache in her chest, but today…today she would see the man her sweet boy became with a clear head. He deserved that, after all who knew what kind of dungeon he grew up in.

Her mind could picture a dozen horrific possibilities… assuming of course, that Danny didn't just send that message to hurt her. He was the sort that would. She couldn't count the ways he had tried to cause her pain. After sleeping quietly all night while his brother was taken, he didn't sleep peacefully again for months. When all she wanted to do was sleep forever, he woke up every hour crying… screaming for bubba to remind her of her loss. Her husband always slipped out to hold him, while she cried herself back to sleep…alone. Then Danny spend four years torturing her… constantly playing as though Nicky was still there, repeating his name over and over…knowing it was like a knife to her heart. She would never forget the day he gave her the paper stork… standing there looking at her with a smile while her heart lay on the floor between them, shattered.

She wished she brought her pills… her hands curled into fists and her stomach threatened rebellion. The agent ahead of her stepped into a room and she moved forward quickly. She waited a moment outside the door to collect herself. A young woman's voice drifted to her ears.

"It took a little digging to figure out who she was, but handing that baby back to her mother… it was one of the best moments of my life."

"I can imagine." The voice that responded sounded suspiciously like Danny. "I wish I could have helped."

"The woman just held her so tight… like she might dissolve if she didn't and her smile … and don't get me started on the big brother… he's three and he couldn't stop talking and hugging his mom and kissing his sister. It was absolutely beautiful."

"And Richards is going down for good."

"The arrest was perfect… by the book all the way. There will be no technicalities for him to exploit."

"Good." Meredith risked a glance into the room. She saw two men in the visitor's chairs, a young woman prowling the room, her whole being radiating nervous energy… and a third man in the bed. He shifted and she realized with a start he wore the same face as one of his visitors. At that moment two pairs of blue eyes noticed her.

"Mom!" the shocked whisper came from the recliner.

"Danny." She acknowledged him with a distant nod, before she allowed her gaze to turn to the face she came to see. "Nicky… oh my baby! What have they done to you?" he frowned at her, she pressed on. "I'm here baby, I'm here."

"Neal?" Nicky's eyes cut away from her face, looking at Danny "This is our… mom?"

"What's left of her." Danny's voice seemed to crack on the words. Nick nodded knowingly. "Life has been hard for her, Kevin." Danny always sounded concerned about her… no one else ever saw how cruel he was. The urge to strike him rose in her throat, but she restrained it. She wouldn't, she didn't often rise to it when he was a child. She wouldn't now.

"This isn't about me, Danny" she said sternly. "Do you have any idea what your brother has been through the last thirty years… there is a reason he's in that bed." the look that passed between the two looked… was that sympathy and disbelief. "Of course you don't, you don't care. You never cared how much someone else was hurting." She turned her eyes back to Nicky. "But I care, baby, you can tell me all about it. I'm right here sweetie. Mama's here." She wanted to throw herself on him and hold on and never let go, but the look on his face stopped her. Nicky was staring at her with a cold hard expression.

"What do you mean he doesn't care about…?" she couldn't understand the anger in Nicky's voice.

"Don't." Danny said quietly "Kevin, please don't. It's ok."

"No it's not." He looked at the other man. "Neal it's not ok." his eyes moved back to her "he has been sitting here for the last five days to make sure I wasn't alone."

"Sweet heart, you should know" she hated to be the one to tell him. Obviously he wanted to like his brother but he needed to know that Danny would hurt him. "He always looks concerned when… people are watching, it doesn't mean anything."


	30. Chapter 30

Neal closed his eyes and forced himself not to sigh. This was the reason he didn't want his friends to know about his mom. Her greying hair, at least looked like it might have been washed in the last week, but it hung unkempt around her skinny face. Her ragged mismatched clothes hung stained and loose from her wasted frame. Worst though was the fact that she barely spared him a glance. He inwardly shook his head, why had he thought that finding his brother would earn him a thankful smile… maybe even a hug? He could just remember a mother, when he was small who would have hugged him. A mom that smiled at him when she was proud of him, but that woman had been drifting further and further away since he was a child.

Her words about him not caring about the feelings of others were not unexpected. He was vaguely surprised for find it still hurt though. Kevin's defense of him was unpredictably pleasant however.

"He always looks concerned when… people are watching."

"I hardly think putting his own health in jeopardy was for appearances." Kevin's voice turned cold. "Maybe you should go." Neal flinched, as his mother looked like Kevin slapped her. Then her eyes darted to back to him and her face hardened.

"I don't know what he told you, sweetie," she said quietly "but honey, I promise it wasn't true. I hate to say it but your brother seems to enjoy causing pain." Neal blinked in shock, he might not be honest, but he had never been purposely cruel. He glanced at Peter and Diana nervously… if they believed her... He didn't dare look at Kevin.

"That hasn't been my experience." Kevin's voice floated through his stunned mind.

"He allowed them to take you!" her voice rose to a frantic crack. "Then he taunted me about it for years." Neal couldn't contain the gasp of disbelief.

"What the h*** are you talking about?" it took a few seconds to identify the angry female voice as Diana's.

"He allowed those monsters to take Nicky… I tried to pretend it wasn't true, but I never forgot. He was sleeping right there in the same bed, just like every night and he did nothing to protect him. Nothing!" She was almost screaming and Neal knew his mouth was open… that he probably resembled a fish out of water, as he sat there gaping at his mother's fury. She blamed him for his brother being kidnapped? How could she blame him? What did she think he could have done? He was only a baby… right? All these years she blamed him… hated him? That certainly explained some things. He blinked away the tears that prickled behind his eyelids.

"You can't seriously blame Neal." Diana sounded as shocked as he felt. Neal risked a glance at her. Diana's face was a bit pale and she looked furious. She didn't really believe…

"Diana I-"

"Shut up. Caffrey." She snapped, her eyes never leaving his mother. Neal bit off the defense that rose to his lips, maybe she really did believe his mother. If she did … he swallowed hard dropping his gaze.

"They took his brother and he didn't do a d*** thing to prevent it!"

"What was he supposed to do? Why don't you blame me?" Kevin said harshly, Neal looked up quickly. Kevin's eyes were steely, he quickly studied his hands again.

"Oh Nicky! You were just a baby! There was nothing you could do, sweetie."

"So was Neal!" Neal risked another look at his brother, then frowned. Kevin was pale as a sheet and shaking. He shouldn't be getting this upset. "We are the same age!"

"But he slept right through it… he didn't even cry that night. Though he certainly made up for it afterward… he woke up every hour for months screaming for you just to torture me. Your father always got up and went to hold him and left me to cry myself back to sleep alone."

"I don't doubt he slept all night." Diana interrupted her tirade.

"Good because I have no reason to lie."

"Maybe not." Diana glared at her "But you definitely have a skewed view of the situation. It's not your word I believe. I believe it because the kidnapper's accomplice said they drugged any siblings who shared the room with their victim."

"Drugged?" she sounded like someone had hit her again. His mother darted a glance his way.

"Sedatives to ensure they slept. They hit forty families… twenty had siblings in the room. Five of the siblings had serious reactions to the drugs… one of them died. Several other families had their remaining child examined because they seemed unusually lethargic. Did you even get him checked out?" Diana glared at her murderously "As for waking up on following nights… he lost his brother, who according to you he always slept with. He was sixteen months old. Of course he cried. I can't believe you were so selfish that not only didn't you comfort your terrified, heartbroken baby you are jealous that your husband did!" Neal wanted to interject, part of him wanted to step in and defend his stammering, frightened mother, but Diana's wrath kept him frozen in place

"I'm not selfish!" She stared at Diana "I-I was grieving and h-he just kept bringing up my pain to…to…"

"To what? He. Was. A. Baby! He missed his brother and he just wanted to be loved."

"I really think you should leave." Kevin looked even paler.

"Please sweetie! I love you so much. Please don't send me away just because-"

"Because you are hurting my brother?" he arched his eyebrows and Neal offered him a surprised smile. "He has been nothing but kind to me and he never said a single bad thing about you. I've known you five minutes and you have done nothing but put him down. Thanks, but I think both of our lives will be better without you in them."

"Don't you see what he is doing?" but she sounded strangely uncertain.

"Ma'am' Diana's politeness ground through her teeth. "I'll escort you out… frankly neither of your son's are up to dealing with your attitude."

"What do you mean neither of them…?" She looked at Neal again, her harsh look doubtful for the first time.

"You have no idea how close you came to never seeing Neal again, and now you were given that chance, against impossible odds, and you threw it away." Diana's eyes remained icy.

"Diana, don't…" Neal found his voice… he was angry at and hurt by his mother's words but it was his job to take care of her. She certainly couldn't take care of herself… and Diana looked like she might break limbs. "Don't hurt her." The agent gave him a sharp nod.

"Come on." Her tone was still brutal but her hand on his mother's arm was gentle. "Let's go. I'm call the marshals to collect you."

"Take care of yourself mom, please." Neal said quietly as Diana led her away. She turned to look at him once more. He could see the pain radiating from her eyes and he really hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid.  
Kevin smiled at him and Peter squeezed his shoulder. Neal realized he was trembling with suppressed fury and worry mixed so completely he couldn't begin to separately them. The familiar feelings that he had pushed aside for so long tumbled through his mind like an out of focus kaleidoscope on spin cycle. She was his mother and he loved her, but he had resigned himself to her not loving him. He knew her pain and the prescription drugs she took to numb it made that impossible, but he never thought she actively resented… even hated him.

"I didn't know she blamed me." He finally managed to say past the lump in his throat.

"Grief can be very irrational, Neal." Peter said far too gently. "It wasn't your fault your brother was taken."

"I know." He smiled for his concerned friend and flicked the expression toward Kevin's worried face as well. "Even I couldn't have arranged a kidnapping at a year old, even if I was inclined to kidnappings."

"Yeah, I think that would be a stretch for even the great Neal Caffrey." Peter chuckled, patting his shoulder.

"Maybe we orchestrated it together." Kevin grinned.

"We are good." Neal laughed quietly. He looked between Peter and Kevin. "I really am ok."

"I know." Peter said

"Good. Then do me a favor… go make sure Diana hands her over to the Marshals in one piece." His friend shook his head with a warm smile, but he turned to follow the two women.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Meredith Wilcox sat at the conference table waiting for her escort back home… or more likely to a new location. She stared out the window at the skyline, without seeing it. She tried to process the information thrown at her the last hour. After her reaction to Meredith at the hospital the young woman who drove her to the office was stonily silent, staring straight ahead the entire ride. The silence was oppressive… even as her hands shook violently and her stomach cramped with the need for her pills the older woman had the sensation she was sitting next to a volcano ready to explode. The woman… Diana, wasn't that what Danny called her, let her firmly by the arm up to the conference room and pointed to a chair.

"Wait here." She said sharply turning on her heal without waiting for a response.

"How do you know Danny?" she asked before Diana reached the door. The young woman

Whirled back to face her instantly a look smoldering look in her eyes.

"His name is Neal." She bit off harshly "You should know that. You gave it to him."

"I did… but it has been a very long time since I've called him that."

"Well after your little stunt today I think you owe him the courtesy of remembering his name."

"I know you got a bad impression of me but I never meant to hurt Da-Neal…"

"I'm sure you didn't." the woman snapped "but you did, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't just today. You want the truth… I think Kevin… nick was lucky to be kidnapped because he didn't have to grow up with you and James Bennett for parents."

"That is just being cruel…'

"So was you performance earlier." The woman glared at her. "Neal is my friend and I don't appreciate seeing him hurt… I've seen enough of that to last me a lifetime."

"What does that mean?"

"It means three months ago I helped lift him out of the Hudson… clinically dead. I watched my coworkers work until the paramedics arrived trying to bring him back… you are D*** lucky you got to see your son today, instead of the grave that statistically he should be in, and you treat him like something nasty you stepped in! I doubt you would have felt anything if you had arrived here and found out he didn't make it, would you?" the questioning look she gave Meredith cut to her stunned heart.

"How could I have known that?" she managed to defend

"How about the fact that he disappeared thirteen years ago and it was his art teacher who reported him missing, not you. You knew about that, right? Neal is a lot of things I don't respect, but one thing I have always admired about him is his heart. He cares about people, does the stupidest, most dangerous things to protect them. I have no idea where it comes from because he certainly didn't get it from you… or James. The only reason I didn't knock that smug look off your face is because Neal asked me not to hurt you. Now let me make this very clear you are a sick, bitter woman and your sons, both of them, deserve better." With that the young agent stalked out of the room without a backwards glance. Meredith, left alone to consider the conversation, felt as if she had been slapped with a cold rag.

Now she stared out the window and considered the simple truths she was suddenly forced to face and the painful fact that it was far too late to make it right.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter stepped into the apartment and stopped short just inside the door. Two wine glasses and three bottles sat on the table. Several large canvases were scattered around the room to dry and paint splattered the drop cloth that just peeked out from behind one of them that he assumed hid the easel as well.

"Neal?" he called softly.

"Yeah." The dark head peered out around the large painting.

"You ok?" he asked doubtfully, glancing at the empty bottles on the table. Most painkillers he knew of did not mix well with large quantities of alcohol.

"Yeah." blue eyes followed his gaze and his friend smiled "They aren't mine. I may have hypothetically had one glass to be social but…" he nodded toward his couch where a short stocky figure slept with his glasses perched on top of his head.

"Ahh." Peter said quietly.

"He was celebrating my homecoming." Neal grinned.

"It is nice to see you back in this place."

"There were a few days I wondered if I would make it back."

"Yeah, me too." The older man carefully didn't mention the days he was certain the next time he stepped through these doors it would be to pick his friend's last suit. "So I take it you aren't planning to go back to the rehab center?"

"My doctor said I don't have to be in-patient any more if I don't want to. I still have to go back five times a week but…" he grinned again "I get to sleep in my own bed." He turned back to his painting.

"So Kevin got away alright?" Peter finally said after a few minutes of watching the steady brush strokes.

"His boss was there to escort him personally." Neal didn't look away from his easel.

"I would have come by to see him off last night, but Donavan made it clear my presence would be viewed as interagency interference."

"That guy has more control issues than you do."

"Yeah, well he has had to manage your brother for five years."

"Touché." Neal raised his paintbrush in salute. Comfortable silence fell between them again. It took several moments before Peter realized it was Amelia's face taking shape under his friend's brush.

"Are you ok?" he asked again.

"He's not planning to come back."

"He has to do what he feels is best…"

"I know." Neal smiled sadly "I'm fine Peter."

"You always are."

"I always am." He grinned "But honestly… I am ok."

"Have you been painting all night?"

"No." he looked around his apartment ruefully. "I went to bed… but I had **that** dream again about one o'clock. So…" he gestured vaguely at the collection.

"Why Amelia?"

"I thought Will would appreciate a portrait of his mother someday. How is he?"

"He's great." Peter shrugged "I don't see all that much of him but Elle always has stories when I get home. We'll bring him by whenever you are ready."

"This afternoon would be great."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah" he wiped his hands with the towel that hung on the chair near the painting. "Though I should probably get a few hours more sleep first."

"Probably." Peter met his gaze "That little boy could run the legs off a race horse. Yesterday poor Satchmo didn't even want to go for a walk." The laughter felt good…


	31. Chapter 31

He leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. Neal flashed the waitress a smile before he sipped the drink she brought him. The fading evening sun shone outside and the brisk air was carrying hints of spring. A year ago he sat out there on that patio savoring a victory much like he was tonight, blissfully unaware that his life was about to change in such a violent and dramatic way that just the memory sometimes took his breath away. He dropped his eyes and studied his coffee allowing a pensive expression to cross his features, but only momentarily. His life had changed, but it had not ended and he refused to dwell on the losses. Especially tonight… tonight he was a free man. Feeling the anklet fall away this morning had been a strange sensation. Not unpleasant but it was a bit disconcerting not to have the familiar weight on his ankle, knowing it would not be going back on at the end of a case.

Neal's future stretched out in front of him, an open book waiting for him to write the rest of the chapters. He could travel again… a year ago that possibility seemed so important, now…well, travel wasn't as simple as it had once been. He could continue working on the twenty-first floor, and probably would until he had figured out his next step, but he wasn't sure about that as a permanent solution. Peter suggested his own private consulting business, and that sounded oddly promising. It would give him more freedom to wander into the grey areas than the FBI did, while offering the challenge of bringing down the bad guys. He smiled. The worst part would be facing his friend's smug grin when he told Peter he was taking his suggestion. Elizabeth wanted him to show some of his paintings but finding a gallery that would take art from a known forger would be a challenge… besides his forgeries were masterpieces, his own work… well… he might let her try a few and see what happened, but he wasn't getting his hopes very high.

He finished his coffee and reached for the cane that leaned against the arm of his chair. His back throbbed in protest as he pushed himself to his feet, the cool damp days of early spring had done little to alleviate the aches in his body. For a moment he stood unmoving while his legs briefly debated holding his weight. Then he walked slowly to the door. He had discovered the last couple of months that if he didn't move to quickly his gait appeared natural and smooth, allowing the illusion that the cane was merely an accessary. It will be eventually, he reminded himself because on grey, drizzly days like this it when the icepick in his back twisted mercilessly it was hard to remember.

Walking home Neal's thoughts wandered to that night last year… he thought of Amelia at his door clutching her tiny son and his dangerous teddy bear. He wondered, as he had a thousand times if he could have helped her if he had known the things he knew now… if he could have saved her. It was a pointless train of thought, he would never know… but William would ask eventually why no one saved her. William… the thought of the little boy brightened his smile and speeded his steps.

"How are you this evening, sweetheart." June greeted as he stepped through her front door as his nephew launched himself from the floor to wrap around his legs.

"I'm great." He smiled warmly, lifting his pant cuff to reveal his bare ankle before he lifted the small boy, with his free arm. The three year old clung to his neck tightly

"Was he good for you, June?"

"He is always an angel, Darling." She smiled gently "Just like his uncle."

"Thanks for picking him up."

"Of course. His teacher said to tell you it's time for spring conferences."

"Uncle Neal?" the properly pronounced name reminded Neal how quickly the child was growing. "You know what happened at school today? Bobby was running and Miss Annie told him to slow down but he didn't lis-ten and he falled down and his knee was bweeding…" Neal chuckled a bit at the boy's chatter, grateful that William could talk about his friend's bleeding without panicking. The first few months after the child moved in the smallest cut or scrape, on anyone, resulted in hysterical sobbing. Miranda recommended a pediatric psychologist who was good with traumatized children, and one night after a particularly bad dream Neal had pulled off his shirt and showed the boy his scars to assure him that owies healed.

He sat his nephew down at the stairs… he wasn't quite confident enough on his feet yet to carry the child up them, so Neal settled for holding the small hand while the little one bounced beside him still chattering eagerly.

Opening his apartment door the young man froze. The figure stood beside his French doors, leaning on the frame and staring out at the city.

"Kevin?" the man turned his head to look at them with half a smile on his lips.

"Neal."

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought you said I was always welcome?"

"You are." Neal tried to cover his shock "But I thought you had no intention of taking me up on that offer."

"I didn't." Kevin pushed away from the wall and walked slowly to the table. Neal noticed his movements were stiff and careful as he sat down. "But circumstances changed my mind."

"What happened?" the words were out before he remembered Kevin's job.

"You know I can't tell you that." His brother reproached gently. "Suffice to say I had the opportunity to find myself waking up in a hospital again recently."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough… that isn't important." He brushed aside his injuries "What is important is I found myself waking up there… alone. The entire time I was recovering I found myself thinking about waking up to find you there watching over me. It's ridiculous I know but… it made me think about … well… family."

"So you thought you would visit."

"Something like that." Kevin dropped his eyes. "Hey, you're on your feet." He finally observed.

"I am. I still move a little slow but I'm still recovering." Neal surveyed his brother "are you ok? You still seem pretty sore."

"I'm fine… I took a pretty nasty fall when I was leaving… somewhere."

"A fall? From which floor?" both men grinned a bit.

"You probably don't want to know."

"Probably not…did you get it?"

"Get what?" Kevin pulled off an innocent look pretty well.

"Whatever it was you weren't there to not get."

"Of course." The grins widened

"Good because if you didn't…" Neal sank into a chair across from his brother as they regarded each other quietly. William eyed his father suspiciously for a moment before he scrambled down to find his toys.

"I have a few more weeks of convalescent leave."

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"This trip? Two or three weeks…" Kevin sucked in a deep breath carefully and released it slowly. "I was hoping you and William might have time to help me look for an apartment."

"You're planning on staying?" Neal couldn't contain his shocked, joyful expression.

"I requested New York for my home base in the future."

"So I assume you will be taking custody of Will." Neal's mind reeled a little at that, some of the happiness leaking out of his expression. After nine months of being a single father he was suddenly going to be relegated to uncle status. He would miss the little ball of energy.

"Well yes… though I'll still be gone for the job, sometimes weeks…months at a time, so I couldn't be a full time father so maybe you could keep William while I'm gone? I know that's asking a lot especially after I basically abandoned him with you last year." he raised his eyebrows

"No that would be great." Neal grinned honestly

"How have you been?"

"Ok. I had to testify against Ridgemont and his goons… but Ridgemont is serving life and the other two both got forty years. Dennison was convicted last week… his sentence should come down soon. I seriously doubt he will ever be released. Richards is protesting his conviction… but he can't seem to get anyone to believe he was set up… Diana covered her bases well." He looked at Kevin and shrugged "I've been helping Diana track down the kids he took and their families. There have been a lot of family reunions to arrange… we were the only twins though." He smiled as he thought of the hugs and tears he had witnessed over the last few months, they had carried him though the long months on light duty. Seeing the missing kids come home was… beautiful. Of course they would all have complications but…

"Bet none of the reunions were as dramatic as ours either."

"Yeah." Neal hesitated "I got a letter from mom a couple of weeks ago."

"What did she have to say?"

"She's in rehab for her… problem… they have been making her see a therapist. She apologized for her behavior when she visited… and the way she acted when I was a kid. She wants a chance to fix things between us."

"You going to give her a chance?"

"I haven't decided honestly. Peter and Diana say not to contact her again, to completely cut her out. That's probably the smart thing to do but part of me wants to give her one last chance… I mean if she is really getting clean… I haven't written her back yet though."

"One more chance might not be bad… but Neal don't let her hurt you."

"She never hurt me… well rarely."

"I didn't mean physically." Kevin sighed.

"Mostly she was just… gone… I mean she was there but she wasn't. She was hurting so much

and I didn't even know why."

"Despite what she said Neal… none of her pain was your fault."

"I know." He shrugged "I know that." He should know Peter and Diana had told him enough

times.

"Uncle Neal!" William interrupted throwing himself at his uncle "I have to potty!" he announced loudly.

"Well go." Neal shook his head ruefully as the boy vanished down the hall. "You see what your future holds? Still think you want to move to New York?" Kevin laughed out loud.

"I can't wait."

)()()()()()()()()()()(

She slipped out of bed and treaded softly down the stairs. As she suspected Elizabeth found her husband sitting quietly at the table, a cup of coffee all but forgotten in his hands. She brushed her fingers over his collar and up into his hair.

"Hey hon… its late, isn't it?"

"Almost two am. You coming to bed soon?"

"Yeah… yeah I'll be right up."

"What are you trying to sort out? Is Neal in some sort of trouble?" she had made a conscious effort the last few months not to ask what Neal had done.

"No…. probably not."

"But you are worried about him."

"He's done… finished his time."

"I know that. He has been for a week. You don't seriously think he will go back to… he has Will now."

"No, I don't actually, but he got a letter from his mother a few weeks ago." Elizabeth winced, Peter's description of his brief encounter with the woman had been painful just to listen to… She couldn't even imagine the agony Meredith put their friend though growing up.

"And he doesn't want to talk about what she said?" she guessed.

"No, he asked my advice."

"Oh…"

"She apologized, said she is in rehab and therapy. She wants another chance to make things right."

"Would that be so bad?"

"The woman is crazy… she will hurt him again."

"Maybe… but maybe he needs to sort out his feelings for her himself."

"I know… you're right. To make things even better his brother is in town… looking for an apartment."

"I thought you liked his brother?"

"I do… mostly."

"What does that mean?"

"He's a lot like Neal but without the aversion to guns… and probably a license to kill for all I know."

"Peter you don't think…"

"No, he's one of the good guys… I'm pretty sure of that, but his life is by nature secrets and lies and well… he attracts trouble just as much as Neal does."

"So now you have two of them to watch out for… that definitely explains the late night brooding." she grinned.

"Oh NO… Kevin is all the CIA's problem. I am staying out of his business."

"But you think Neal won't."

"I think that career might hold a lot of appeal for a former con artist."

"So you are worried about losing him to his mother and to the CIA… Honey…"

"I just…"

"He's happy here, hon. His life is here… his family is here. He's not going to disappear to chase a job as a spy."

"I know, you're right but it's not just a job, its family too…"

"Neal is tired of being on the run, he wants to figure out who he is… he has his nephew to think about. He may go see his mom for a few days, he may occasionally decide to help Kevin out with his thing… but his life is here and I think with everything that has happened it always will be."

"Thanks hon."

"You're welcome. Now come to bed, honey."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

He glanced back at the two men seated discretely at the back of the courtroom. Seeing Neal and Kevin seated side by side still startled him. Peter shuttered inwardly at the thought of the two of them living in the same city, but he smiled, at least he wasn't responsible for their behavior.

With a sigh he turned back to the front of the room and rose respectfully as the judge entered. He had promised his weekend to help settle Kevin into his new place after James Dennison's sentence was handed down. Taking his seat once more he risked another look at the twins in the back, Neal grinned at him hopefully and he returned the expression. Dennison's gaze fell on Peter coldly, recognition in his eyes as the judge read the charges he had been convicted of and sentenced him to life in prison for Amelia Woodbridge's death and twenty years for the attempted murder of one Neal Caffrey. Peter smiled as the bailiff took charge of the man. Justice was a beautiful thing when the system worked the way it should. He felt more than heard his best friend and his brother move up beside him and he knew the exact moment the convicted man caught sight of them. The startled expression was priceless as he realized for the first time there were two of them. Kevin stepped forward and addressed Dennison

"I wanted you to die… pictured every day for months ending your life with my own hands…" he shook his head and grinned "but this… this so much better. I hope you live a long, long time Dennison. I hope you spend your hundredth birthday looking out through the bars."

The officer led Dennison away. As the door slammed behind him Neal looked between his brother and his friend and smiled "Anyone feel like celebrating, because I know this great little place on Fifth…"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

The room was dark when he eased himself out of bed, silvery moonlight spilling eloquently in through the doors to his balcony. Without turning on the light Neal stepped slowly to his table and pulled out the crumbled letter. Rereading his mother's words he wondered if she really meant them… even if she did, would she be able to stay clean? She mentioned wanting to visit sometime. Her words sounded genuinely sorry, but then again so had James when he wanted Neal to let him into his life. He didn't really need her… he had a family here, but she was his mom and he felt the need to make sure she was ok. It had always been his job to take care of her. He could remember tucking her in after her bad nights when he was seven or eight years old. Neal sighed and clicked on a small lamp, lifted his pen, positioned the quality paper he acquired from June and hesitated as he thought about all the things he needed to say.

"Dear Mom," he began…and paused allowing his cheek to rest on his hand as his mind drifted with his reflections…

 _ **THE END**_

 **)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()**

 **I do not own the rights to the White collar characters or plots. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story. Please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed it, hated it, or think I am crazy. I am thankful to my wonderful editor and co-author kittaleen.**


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